


What Death Doesn't Touch

by smokeshop (orphan_account)



Category: SKAM (TV)
Genre: Bipolar Disorder, M/M, Past Rape/Non-con, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-11
Updated: 2017-08-04
Packaged: 2018-11-30 20:25:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 41,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11471034
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/smokeshop
Summary: Halfway through Even's third year, he's diagnosed with bipolar disorder. When Isak is 16, Eskild finds him too late outside the bar.They meet in a psychiatric hospital and grow in ways they'd never intended, and decide early on that they don't have to take it all so seriously.





	1. Even

**Author's Note:**

> hi loves! despite the description and title and everything, this is a fic that shouldn't be as heavy as "if i knew" that i wanted to post (of course i'm super bad at defining angst levels so maybe it'll be worse--but i hope not!).  
> while i'm staying away from graphic details of any issue, there will be mentions of even's suicide attempt and a rape, so please be careful <3 there will always be more warnings in the end notes, but that's what you should know for this first chapter :)  
> title from Donna Tartt's "The Goldfinch": "It is a glory and a privilege to love what death doesn't touch."

*

Even had always believed that he was in control of his own life, that he made the decisions to determine his future without any help from fate or destiny or the universe or God. He was setting himself on a path that would ultimately lead him where he wanted to go, and while the choices of others threw curves, he had always believed he was on that same path. He had a great girlfriend, he was doing well in his high school film studies, he had a group of friends and wonderful parents, and _he_ was making it happen. It was according to plan, it was everything he'd wanted it to be.

But he didn't believe it anymore.

His entire life had gotten out of his control in a matter of weeks and he was jaded and disillusioned and tired, and there was nothing he could do _now_ to reverse what he'd done _then_ , and if life was his to direct then it should have gone differently. Because this wasn't his choice, he'd barely been aware for the amount of time it took to try to take his own life, but he remembered now that at the time it had seemed rational, like it was the only choice. He wasn't in his right mind, he knew that now, with a newly-acquired name for a disorder he hadn't known that he had, he knew that his thoughts were clouded and too extreme—inconvenience turned to hopelessness and embarrassment to humiliation.

He didn't believe that the world was his anymore. He didn't believe that his mind was, either, and when he walked into the hospital with bandages still taped to his forearms he thought that maybe this was the first step to getting that hopefulness back. He wanted to feel in control of himself. He wanted to believe that he had direction and that he had a plan that he could stick to.

Two weeks in a hospital bed wasn't enough time for him to get over the depression or regain his belief in self-control, but it was enough to make everything seem a little bit brighter. Long enough for him to gain his strength back, and to start taking an assortment of medications, and to build up the willpower to get out of bed at all and check himself into a place that specialized in situations like his, in people like him.

He filled out all the paperwork himself. He handed his personal effects over to the nurse and let her sort through them and take away the sharp things. He gave her his prescriptions and she wrote them down on a clipboard along with the dosages and the daily amounts.

And then he was standing there exhausted and doubting himself.

His parents hadn't wanted him to go. A psychiatric ward was unnecessary when they could take care of him, they said. But as much as he needed time and space to heal, so did they. He'd hurt them with his attempt and he was starting to accept that it wasn't totally his _fault_ , that it was his brain chemistry instead of malice towards life and his family, but it didn't mean that they weren't still reeling from it just like he was.

He didn't want to force this on them. He wanted to do it himself, he wanted to become self-reliant again, he wanted to learn how to take care of himself so that he'd be sufficient and able to live alone when he got out. He was nineteen already, he'd have to repeat his third year, and he wasn't going to do it in his parents' house. He couldn't. He needed some semblance of maturity to get through this, or else he was afraid he never would. If he let his parents solve this for him, he'd never be able to solve it himself when he needed to.

So he was here. And he'd stay for as much time as they wanted him to, but the minimum was two weeks.

“You'll have a roommate,” Nurse Ana said, leading him down the hall, his arms filled with a towel and the items from his pockets that he was allowed to keep and his backpack that had been searched thoroughly. “His name is Ben. He's twenty. He doesn't talk very much, he's one of our more permanent stays, but he shouldn't bother you as a roommate at all.”

“Okay,” Even said, trailing after her slowly. He felt tired; this was more than he'd done in weeks. He was still deep in the depressive state, and he knew he would be for a long time. “You don't have any private rooms?” he asked, glancing at the doors to see which ones were open.

“We do,” Ana said. “Down the hall to the right there, but they're for our Sensitive Needs patients.”

Even glanced down the hall as they passed it and saw a blonde head through an open door. It was a boy sitting on the sole bed in the small room, a book in his lap, and he looked up when he heard Even and Ana pass, eyes trained on them. He was beautiful. He had a cast on one arm and yellowing bruises on his face and even as Even passed out of his sight quickly he knew he'd have to see him again.

“What counts as Sensitive Needs?” he asked, fixing his eyes back on the tile at his feet as they walked.

“It's usually patients who've escaped violence,” Ana said. “Abuse victims, rape victims. We like to give them a room to themselves so that they can heal individually without worrying about the other person in the room.”

Even just nodded. “What about people who... who are violent?”

“Patients with violent outbursts can either be given a single room for the duration of the episode or for their entire stay, depending upon the frequency.” Ana delivered her answers clinically and brightly, like she's reading from a manual for some orientation video. “That can include patients experiencing a bipolar manic episode, if you're worried, but with the meds you're on I don't think you'll be having another one any time soon.”

He'd been told this by the doctors at the hospital when he woke up still alive. But it didn't make it any less scary, because someday it _would_ happen again, and he never wanted to feel as out of control as he had during that time, not ever.

“Those rooms are on the other side of the ward, though,” she said. “They can sometimes get loud so we keep them separate from the Sensitive Needs patients.”

Even nodded again. “Am I still on suicide watch?” he asked, stopping with her in front of one of the doors. “Because I'm not going to do it again. I promise.”

“It's customary to stay on suicide watch here for up to a month after the first attempt,” Ana said, holding her clipboard to her chest. “Sometimes longer. It depends on the patient and the situation, and I promise we'll get yours sorted out soon. I'm going to set you up with your therapist sometime this week, and he'll give us more information on the method of your care, okay? This is your room.”

He pushed open the door that didn't lock and set his backpack and towel and objects on the unoccupied bed.

“Ben, honey,” Ana said, leaning over the blanket-covered lump in the other bed. “This is Even, he'll be your new roommate.”

The person didn't move and Even didn't expect him to. He wanted to do the exact same thing.

“The rules are pretty simple,” Ana said, stopping in front of him again and pulling a sheet of printer paper from her clipboard to hand to him. “You're allowed to use your phone when you want, you're allowed visitors during visitor's hours, you can put your clothes in this hamper and the laundry will be done and returned twice a week. Lights out at ten o'clock, breakfast from seven to nine, lunch from twelve to two, and dinner from six to eight. Group therapy on Tuesdays and Thursdays and individual therapies upon appointment at least once a week. Everything you need to know is outlined on that paper, including events that happen each day and what time. Okay?”

He was staring blankly at the paper with a weekly schedule broken down by day, and rules for what was and wasn't allowed, and guidelines for a successful stay at the psychiatric ward.

“Okay,” he said, looking up at her again. He was unbelievably tired, exhausted just by coming down here and talking and taking in all this new information.

“One last thing, Even, and then I'll leave you be,” she said, smiling. “We really discourage relationships between patients while in psychiatric care. We can't forbid it, but we think that it inhibits healing and takes focus away from treatment.”

He nodded, but all he could think about was the pretty boy, which was stupid because he'd been single for all of two weeks and had seen the boy for a total of nine seconds—there was no way he should be connecting the word “relationship” with him instead of the girl he'd dated for three years.

“I understand,” he said dutifully, and she parted with a smile.

He took off his shoes—they'd taken his shoelaces—and settled between the sheets of the bed, and he was asleep in a few blissful minutes of peace.

  
*

His first two days were uneventful. He'd checked in on Sunday and then did nothing but sleep for the rest of the day, and on Monday he'd forced himself into a shower, into breakfast, and then couldn't do anything more. An aid brought in lunch and dinner on a tray for him and he'd choked some down before going back to sleep, and a nurse changed his bandages and brought his pills in a paper cup.

But today was Tuesday and Tuesday was group therapy.

It was also where he saw Isak again, sitting across from him in the small circle of patients well enough to attend. Even's eyes stayed fixed on him when the boy's only drifted over Even to find an empty seat, and Even's eyes stayed on him as they all introduced themselves for the benefit of the new patient—Even, who wasn't listening except to find out what the boy between Cecilie and Tomas was named.

And it was Isak.

He didn't really know that he was staring until Isak caught his eye and looked down with flushed cheeks. He was dressed in jeans and a hoodie with the left sleeve pushed up to accommodate the black plaster cast on his forearm, and he looked so good, and Even knew his head wasn't in the right space and he knew it was a bad idea but if Isak barely looked back then what could the consequences really be?

The therapist's name was Adrian and he asked Even his name and his age and he smiled a lot before starting the session with a woman named Cali who was adjusting to medicine and treatment for schizophrenia. She seemed to be doing well and Even tried to listen, he really did, but this was the most he'd done in days, and he was _tired._ He hated how tired he still was, he felt like he'd been tired for so long.

He perked up a bit when it was the turn of someone else who'd attempted suicide recently, a grown man whose name Even couldn't remember. He looked... well, though, and Even thought that maybe he could get to that place, too. He looked happy with himself and with the progress he'd made. Maybe Even needed to be a little more open to the little things, to the little victories, to being able to get out of bed and eat a meal and laugh at a joke.

“And you, Isak, how are you?” Adrian asked, and Isak pulled his sleeve over his hand and shrugged as he looked down at the floor, answering, “I'm fine.”

“Can you give us a little more than that?” Adrian asked fondly, and Isak smiled, looking up.

“I'm okay, I guess,” he said. “I get my cast off in a month. Nothing hurts so much anymore.”

“How are you sleeping?” Adrian asked, and Isak shrugged again, casting his eyes down. “Nightmares?” Adrian prompted.

“Sometimes,” Isak said to his shoes. “Not as often anymore. And it's only been two weeks, so... maybe they'll go away altogether, eventually. And... therapy with Doctor Kinsey is going well, I guess, and... and the stuff with the cops are... okay.”

“I'm glad,” Adrian said with a smile.

Isak nodded a bit. “I'm keeping up with schoolwork and reading and stuff, so I should be able to take my exams and start second year on time. They're being pretty... accommodating, to me. And I guess things with my dad are going okay, and with my friends, and stuff.” He shrugged yet again and smiled a bit as he looked up at Adrian again. “I'm fine.” His eyes drifted to Even briefly and Even almost lost his breath at the eye contact. Isak blushed and looked down, and Adrian turned to Even before Even could realize that it was happening.

“Would you like to share anything, Even?” Adrian asked, seemingly oblivious to the little look his two patients had shared, and that, at least, was a relief.

“Um. I guess I can... introduce myself, and my story, and stuff,” Even said, itching to look over at Isak again but reluctant to draw attention to it. “I checked myself in because I just got diagnosed. With... bipolar disorder, um, after my... suicide attempt.” He was looking at the ground because it was easier to tell this story to the ground. “I fucked up during my manic episode and then... it felt a million times worse when I was depressed and I didn't know how to handle it. So I didn't, I guess. It's been two weeks, I'm healing okay, like... physically.”

“That's really good,” Adrian said with a smile. “And how are you feeling?”

“Better,” Even said with a nod, drawing his eyes up to look at him. “Still... shitty, though.”

“I can imagine.”

When Even looked at Isak, Isak wasn't looking back, his eyes pointedly on the floor next to his chair. Even knew he'd said something wrong, but he didn't know what. There were a lot of people wary of mental illness—but then again, if Isak was in here, he'd have to be at least a little bit accepting.

Even didn't know, but Isak looked sad. His face, his whole countenance—he looked like he wanted to be happy but he couldn't be, like something had happened to him and he'd been broken by it like Even had.

When the group was over Isak was out of the room before Even could notice, and Even didn't see him again for the rest of the day. It wasn't such a surprise, because he just slept and went to individual therapy, where the doctor kept him on suicide watch and upped his appointment frequency to twice a week until it was over.

Whatever. It'd been proven that he couldn't trust his mind, so it didn't come as a surprise that while he thought he was getting better, he wasn't.

He went to sleep again feeling just as bad as ever.

  
*

He broke up with Sonja while he was in the hospital barely awoken from the attempt, and everyone told him he couldn't, except Sonja. His parents told him he wasn't thinking clearly and his doctors said he was still groggy from the morphine, but Sonja just smiled sadly and said, “That's okay, Even. Whatever you need to get through this.”

Clearly, his mother and father still didn't totally approve of it, because when they showed up to visit him on Wednesday with a bag full of more of his clothes and some of his hobbies, they wouldn't stop talking about her.

They really liked Sonja, and he understood that. They'd been together for three years, almost four, and before that they were great friends. His parents had known her for a long time, and Even cared about her deeply. He even loved her, for a while, but they didn't work so well as partners as they had as friends. Right now, he didn't need the added stress of having to keep up their breaking relationship. He could barely do it when he wasn't recovering from a manic episode and near-death experience, and Sonja understood that a lot more than his own parents did.

“Are you listening, Even?” his dad asked. “You should call her, when you get the chance.”

“I haven't talked to any of my friends,” he said, chin on his folded arms on the table. “I'm not ignoring her in particular, I'm just not ready to talk about it with them. I'll call her when I want to, not when you tell me to.”

“Jesus, Even,” his mom said with a sigh, and Even sat up to pick at the bandages on his arms, staring down at his fingers. “You're acting like we're making your life hell. Stop acting like you're the only person who matters right now.”

“Why _aren't_ I the only person who matters right now?” Even asked. “Why should I have to worry about everyone else when it's hard enough to worry about myself?” He watched his parents' faces fall at his words and he knew that he was being insensitive because he knew that what he'd done affected more than just him but he was just—

Sick of it. Exhausted, and tired of feeling the blame. It'd been a moment of weakness in the worst time of his life, and he'd been feeling guilty and he didn't want to anymore. “I'm sorry I hurt you guys and I'm sorry I did it and I'll never do it again. I feel so bad for making you go through that. But... I can't get better if I'm so worried about everyone else. This is about me right now. I need it to be about me.”

When he looked over his mother's shoulder in the common room he saw Isak on a couch, looking at him over the top of his book and smiling.

Even smiled back.

  
*

Friday was his first time at any meal beyond breakfast. Usually he was asleep right now and would wake up to a wheeled-in tray for lunch, but today he felt energized enough to get out of bed and make his way down the hallways and into the cafeteria.

It was way more crowded than it was at seven am, and Even was a bit overwhelmed by the noise and activity in such a small space. But he persevered and got a plate of food and looked around the room for an empty table that he couldn't find. What he could find, though, was Isak alone at a table in the corner, eating slowly and methodically with his broken arm resting next to his plate.

“Can I sit here?” Even asked, one hand on the back of the chair across from Isak, who looked up from his phone and smiled a bit.

“Sure,” he said, pulling his shirtsleeve over his hand.

“I'm Even,” he said when he was seated, his plate in front of him.

“I know,” Isak said with a smile. “I'm Isak.”

Even smiled too. “I know.”

“You shouldn't've gotten the fish,” Isak said, glancing at his plate and then back at Even's face. “It's never good. The chicken's better.”

“Oh,” Even said, looking down at his plate. “Shit.”

It made Isak laugh, the dry way he'd said it, and Even hadn't pictured their first interaction going like this at all; Isak had been mostly unable to hold eye contact with him, and in the group he was quiet and withheld, almost shy. The directness of his speech now was not what Even had expected. It was better.

“I guess I'll just eat the salad and potatoes and stuff, then,” Even said, glancing at the line at the counter, only three people long. He wasn't willing to leave now, though, because although a romantic relationship would be detrimental to his treatment, he didn't feel like a friendship would hurt.

“Suit yourself,” Isak said. “I, uh.... You're new, right? I mean, I know you're new, I just... wanted to start a conversation without saying 'sorry about your suicide attempt.' I didn't do a very good job.”

And somehow... that was what he needed to hear. It didn't hurt and at least they were acknowledging it instead of dancing around it. They were both in a psych ward together, it seemed like something that should be addressed.

“That's okay,” Even said. “Sorry about your... broken arm, and whatever you're going through.”

Isak smiled a bit. “How can you say sorry when you don't even know what happened?” he teased.

“I guess I'm just sorry that you had to go through anything at all,” Even said. “I know what it's like.”

“I don't like to get this heavy at lunchtime,” Isak said.

“That's understandable,” Even answered. “Let's talk about something else. You're in school?”

Isak nodded. “First year at Nissen. And hopefully next year I'll be a second year, but who knows.” He took a bite of his potatoes and said, “What about you?”

“Third year at Bakka, and I'll be a third year next year, too.”

Isak grimaced a bit. “Sucks.”

“I guess,” Even replied. “How are you here if you're a first year? That's, what, sixteen?”

Isak picked at his green beans with the tines of his fork, eyes falling to his plate before lifting back up hesitantly. “The youth ward wasn't a good fit,” he said after a second. “They thought the therapist here would be better for me.”

Even wondered what'd happened, but he didn't ask. And he didn't need to, because Isak didn't let him.

“I got beat up,” he offered, like it was a question, raising his cast up a bit. “There's a bit of... trauma, there, I guess.”

“Sucks,” Even echoed, because he didn't know what else to say, and then flinched at it, because it was absolutely the wrong response. But Isak smiled.

“Yeah,” he agreed. “It does.” They ate in silence for a moment, and it wasn't as uncomfortable as it should've been. “How are you liking it so far?” Isak asked eventually, looking up at him again.

Even nodded. “Yeah, it's nice. Fine, I mean. Better than the normal hospital.”

“Do you like your therapist?” Isak asked. “Who do you have?”

“Doctor... Einar, I think? He's fine. I don't know, I've only had one appointment.”

Isak nodded a bit. “He's alright, yeah. I mean, they're all good. They're better at certain things, I guess, like Doctor Kinsey has most of the patients with PTSD and Doctor Einar has most of the patients with mood disorders.”

“Are there a lot of people with mood disorders?” Even asked.

“More people than with PTSD,” Isak answered with a small smile.

“I guess I'm among my people, then,” Even said. “I've never met anyone else with a mood disorder before. Or any mental illness.”

“Really?” Isak asked, stabbing at his green beans and averting his eyes again. “My mom was schizophrenic.”

“Oh,” Even said, confused by the phrasing but unwilling to ask. “That must be hard, I'm sorry.”

“It's okay,” Isak said, seemingly automatically, because he didn't seem okay. It did seem sudden, though, and surprising, when Isak set down his fork and looked at him and said, “She died.”

Even blinked at him for too long, and just when he opened his mouth to say sorry again—pointlessly, probably—Isak said, “She killed herself,” quietly, while looking Even dead in the eye—and, shit.

“Oh,” Even repeated, softer this time. “I'm... sorry. I know how much that sucks.”

Isak watched him for a second, looking him over in a way that wasn't as appreciative as Even would've hoped, and then he broke into his half smile. “Yeah, I guess you do.”

They ate in silence again, and then Isak finished and looked at Even, glancing away every time Even caught his eyes but smiling slightly as he did so.

“I'm not going to do it again,” Even said softly as he finished his meal and pushed his plate away from him. The fish _had_ been bad, and most of it remained on his plate. He watched Isak's face soften at his words. “I won't try again.”

Isak just looked at him sadly for a moment. “I hope not,” he said, standing up. “It'd sure be a waste.”

  
*

Even's oldest friend was Sonja. Their parents had been friends when they were young and it didn't take much at all for the two children to become close and then closer and then inseparable, even as their parents drifted into colleagues and acquaintances rather than the friends they'd once been.

He had other friends, too, vaguer friends, kids from the apartment or the neighborhood or the school, kids he saw sometimes but not enough. It wasn't until high school that he was close to someone besides Sonja, though, and that was because he met Yousef and Elias on the first day of first year, in Spanish class, and they took him in immediately. The two of them came with the three others, and the five boys were a package deal, and they'd all known each other since they were children. But they gathered Even in as if he'd been there all along, all of them.

Still, it didn't surprise him that Elias and Yousef were the ones who were here, right now. Because the two of them knew him better than the others, and well enough to know that if Even had a choice between fight or flight, he chose flight every time. He didn't confront, he didn't handle conflict well. He hid, and they wouldn't let him, not then and not now.

“Hey, man,” Elias said, standing up from his place at the common room table, a visitor's name tag plastered onto his chest as he pulled Even into a hug. “We've missed you, dude.”

They'd seen him right before he left for the ward, but days apart were a long time for them.

“It's good to see you,” Even said.

“How are you?” Yousef asked, taking his turn to hug Even and then sitting down at the table with him.

Even was... nervous. He'd seen them for a week after the attempt, but things were changed. He didn't want them looking at him differently because he was here, he didn't want them to think of him as weak for needing help.

But they hadn't judged him during his episode. And truly, he knew that they wouldn't judge him now. They never had.

“I'm doing okay,” Even said, twisting his hands together and looking at the table. “How are the boys?”

“They're good,” Elias said, and Even looked up. “They miss you.”

Even had wanted them to leave him alone, he wanted all of them to leave him alone. Adam and Mutta had, because they couldn't know that Even had no intention of seeing them again, they didn't know those most intimate traits of him in the same way Yousef and Elias did. They thought he needed time, and they were going to give him time, and he appreciated it. And if things went well with Yousef and Elias, maybe he _would_ see them again, because he already missed them. But Mikael was another story entirely, and Even wasn't sure he could ever face him again, not after he tried to kiss him, almost cheated on his girlfriend, his best friend, with one of the people he was closest to in the world. Not after Mikael had rejected him in the harshest way he could. No amount of apologies could make up for it, and Even knew, because he read all the ones Mikael had sent and he didn't feel closer to forgiving the words said to him.

“I miss them, too,” Even said, and it was true, but it didn't mean he had to let them in.

“Mikael's sorry,” Elias said. “He didn't mean what he said, he's not... he doesn't think you're a bad person, Even, he doesn't think you need to be saved.”

It was only when he heard someone clear their throat that he noticed that Isak was in the room, with a book in his lap as he sat on the couch, in the exact same invisible corner he'd been in when Even's parents had visited. He had his legs up on the couch, leaning back against the armrest with his knees bent, looking at Even. Even looked back for a second, then tuned back into the conversation, eyes finding Yousef.

“You don't have to see him,” Yousef said. “I understand, man. I wish he hadn't said those things, too, and I can't imagine why he did. He shouldn't've. He doesn't hate anyone, and he'll never hate you, but he understands if you hate him.”

“I don't hate him,” Even said, and that was true, too.

There was silence between them and Even's eyes drifted to Isak again. He was reading his book now, but Even felt like he was definitely listening. He couldn't find it in him to care.

“But, hey,” Elias said, slapping his chest playfully across the table, “Yousef keeps flirting with my sister.”

Even smiled and Yousef's face went pink. “I've never flirted with anyone in my entire life,” he said. “Least of all Sana.”

“He threw grass at her,” Elias said, patting Yousef's cheek and turning to Even to say, “And took her basketball, he's clearly not very good at flirting, maybe that's why he thinks he's not doing it. He's been in love with her forever, though, you'd think he'd be better.”

“I can't believe you want to date Sana,” Even said with a smile, watching Yousef push Elias's hand off his face.

“Good thing she has taste and standards, though, right?” Elias teased, nudging Even with his elbow and breaking into a laugh with him.

“We're just friends,” Yousef mumbled, picking at his sweatshirt sleeve and pouting. “She's smart and stuff. Fun to talk to. We're friends. Aren't we allowed to be friends?”

“Friends,” Elias repeated with a nod. “Just friends, sure. Hurt my sister and I'll fucking kill you, man.”

“Dude, if I hurt your sister, _she'd_ kill me, you wouldn't have time,” Yousef mumbled. Isak was smiling behind his book and Even found his obvious eavesdropping inexplicably endearing.

“And, man,” Elias said, turning back to Even, “we don't give a fuck that you're gay or whatever, okay, just don't cut us out again.”

Even's cheeks flushed. “I'm not gay.”

Yousef shrugged. “That's fine, too.”

“I mean... I'm not straight, either, but....” He sighed and raked a hand through his hair. It was falling over his forehead all the damn time now, he didn't have the energy or initiative to do anything with it to keep it out of his face. “I loved Sonja, really, for a little bit. But—I don't know. I could love someone else, too.” He glanced up and Isak was looking at him, but he blushed and looked down when he caught Even's eye. “I don't have feelings for Mikael, or anything,” Even said. “I never did, it was just... misplaced stuff, I don't know. I didn't mean it. Sonja and I were on the rocks and I was, you know.... I mean we spent a lot of time together, and we had a lot in common. It didn't mean anything.”

“It's alright, man,” Elias said. “You don't have to explain yourself.”

Even glanced at Isak, and this time Isak held his gaze for a moment with a smile on his lips.

 


	2. Isak

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow thank you so much for all the comments and kudos! i'm glad you still want to read my fics even though the show's over, because i really enjoy writing them <3 
> 
> you guys really trust me to treat this with the utmost respect, and that means the world to me. i promise i will <3
> 
> warnings in the end notes bbys :)

*

When his mother died Isak spiraled. The guilt was overwhelming and the sadness consuming; he couldn't stay at home anymore and he wouldn't talk to anyone. Everything in the world reminded him of his mom and everyone kept trying to help him. He didn't want their help. He deserved to feel pain. His entire life, all he wanted to do was run from his family. He was the one that left her alone, and he was the one who found her.

It was why he was in the bar drunk off his ass at only sixteen years old. Because his home was only a reminder of everything he didn't have, a mother who'd disappeared, and he couldn't go back. He told this to a man and the man said he'd take care of him and Isak—

Isak believed him.

Most of the night was lost to him after that, he wasn't sure if it was because of the haze of the alcohol or the trauma that accompanied it to repress his thoughts. He remembered how much it hurt, all of it, but through a blacked-out memory and piqued adrenaline that made it easier. And he didn't want to remember more. The cops had asked him question after question about what happened, and Isak was glad he didn't know. He wouldn't be able to handle it if he did; knowing it had happened at all was hard enough.

It was Eskild who saved him, Eskild who punched the man bloody and redressed Isak in the alleyway and let Isak kick and hit him until he calmed down enough to know that Eskild wasn't a threat, that Eskild really _was_ there to help, that Eskild wasn't lying like the other man had. Eskild wouldn't hurt him.

They went to the hospital, which Isak didn't remember, and they had to wait hours until he was sober and awake before they could perform a rape kit and give him an x-ray. His arm was broken and he had a concussion and someone had touched him but it hadn't left behind DNA and it hadn't been more intrusive than two fingers. Eskild was still with him and Eskild called his dad for him and his dad came in sobbing, and Isak had never seen him like that before.

The decision to enter the psychiatric ward was a suggestion by his doctor that he and his father mutually agreed upon. Isak didn't want to be at home anymore and his dad just wanted him to get the help that his wife wouldn't. So they packed up some of his stuff, and Isak sat in the passenger seat of the car while his dad called Jonas's mother and told her what was going on. Isak had asked him to so that he wouldn't have to. When Jonas texted him later that day, when Isak was in his new room—a private room, rape victims got private rooms—Isak could answer without crying, could tell him to tell Eva and no one else, because he missed her and he needed her just as much as he needed Jonas right now.

And things were going well, really. People didn't believe him when he said it, but it wasn't all trauma and fear all the time, he was capable of smiling and laughing and making jokes. His confidence wasn't shot, his dreams weren't all nightmares, every second of every day wasn't spent reliving the worst night of his life. Contrary to popular belief, his entire life wasn't put on hold because one terrible thing happened to him, and he was tired of people treating him like he was irreparably damaged by it. The more they treated him like he was broken, the more broken he felt.

Doctor Kinsey never treated him like he was broken. She skirted his limits without passing them, asked him blunt questions instead of implying them, and he trusted her irrevocably in a time in his life when it was hard to trust anyone.

“Adjusting well?” Doctor Kinsey asked, clicking open her pen on the arm of the couch she was sitting in. She looked up at Isak with a fond smile and he smiled back.

“I'm good.”

“Have you made any friends?”

He laughed a bit. “Not really.”

“No?”

“Everyone's pretty old here,” he said, watching her cross her legs and open the file sitting next to her on the couch. “I don't know, there's a... new boy. He's still in school, so. We've sat together at lunch once, but that's about it.”

She smiled knowingly, nodding once. “He's a looker.”

“Oh my God.”

She laughed and picked a piece of paper from her folder, smile falling into a look more serious. Isak knew what was coming before she opened her mouth. “So, I've been thinking.” Isak watched as her eyes drifted over the sheet and then landed on him. “I really want to reevaluate options for medication,” she said, and he was already shaking his head.

“No. No medication.”

“You're not sleeping at night, Isak--”

“No medication, please.” He was shaking his head. “No. I won't take it.” He widened his eyes at her raised brows. “I won't.”

“Isak, just because your mother--”

He didn't want to hear this, and he opened his mouth to say so, but Doctor Kinsey gave him a look he knew well and he closed it. “Just because your mother was dependent doesn't mean that you will be. You're in a safe place, you'll get the correct dosage at the correct times.”

“And after I go home?” Isak asked. He leaned back in his chair and shook his head again. “No, I'm not—I can't. I'm doing fine, Doctor Kinsey, I don't want to start drugs, too. Talking is enough.”

“I want you to become the best that you can be, Isak,” she said.

He showed her a smile and her shoulders sank as she smiled back. “I'm fine. I'm totally fine.”

“I know you are,” she said with a sigh. “I know.”

“The sleeping stuff.... I'll find another way.” He winked at her. “It's chill.”

She shook her head, grinning. “You kill me, Isak.”

“Am I your favorite patient?” he asked, leaning over the arm of the chair to smile winningly at her.

“I don't think I'm allowed to have favorites,” Doctor Kinsey said, packing the papers in his file back up and looking at him in fond exasperation.

“Can I call you Ellen? Favorites are allowed to call their doctors by their first name, right?”

“Get out of here, Isak.”

“I love you, Ellen.”

“Get out, Isak!” she cried, laughing, and he blew her a kiss as he disappeared through the doorway.

  
*

A doctor's note really meant everything.

The school was emailing him the work he'd have to do to prepare for exams at the end of the year, all the pages he could read in the online textbooks, every worksheet and homework assignment his classmates had to do. He turned in written essays online, submitted assignments just like everyone else did, studied long and hard like he always had. He couldn't repeat his first year, not when he cared so much. He couldn't be stuck there for another year when his entire life right now was focused on moving forward.

So he sat in the common room that was always empty when it wasn't visitors' hours, the common room without a TV that people found pointless, and he ate an apple as he read from his English textbook on the laptop screen.

“Hey,” someone said, and he jumped, heart rate climbing as he twisted around. It was just Even, though, of course it was—no one in here wanted to hurt him but that wasn't so easy to remember all the time.

He let out a breath and put a smile on his face. It was at least a little bit genuine, still a bit jumpy from the surprise of his presence. “Hi.”

“What are you doing?” Even asked, putting his hand on the back of one of the chairs across from Isak. He was really attractive. Isak could now admit to himself that he found a boy attractive, and he couldn't find it in himself to care like he would just three weeks ago. Too much had happened for him to still be ashamed of this. There were bigger things to tackle in life, now, and it was hard enough without the stress of his sexuality hanging over his head.

“I'm doing schoolwork,” Isak said.

“Ah, yes,” Even said with a nod. “You're ambitious and have, like, plans in life, and stuff. Are you a genius? I bet you're a genius.”

Isak laughed. “I guess.”

“Can I sit with you?” Even asked, pulling the chair out a bit but waiting for permission.

“You can if you don't want to talk.”

“That's all I want,” Even said, putting a sketchbook onto the tabletop and sinking into the chair. “Not talking is my favorite pastime.”

Isak looked at him as Even opened the book and leaned over it. He couldn't figure him out—Even was only charismatic and suave in the company of Isak, anywhere else he went, with anyone else, he was silent and withdrawn. Isak didn't understand it, didn't understand him, but he wasn't complaining. It was nice to be the center of someone's attention.

“You're, like, a dork, aren't you?” Isak asked, looking over his laptop at him.

Even brought his eyes up from the paper and pressed a hand to his chest as he raised his eyebrows. “Me? I'm a dork? Are you talking about me?”

“Oh, God, I was right,” Isak said, putting his face in his hands. “The one person close to my age in here and you're a fucking dork. You know this means I can't talk to you anymore.”

“Does it?” Even asked with a smile.

“I can't have you damaging my reputation, can I? You understand, right?”

“Is your reputation important to you?” Even asked. “It can only mean so much considering where you are.”

Isak laughed. “I'm the most popular psych patient here, haven't you realized it?”

“I know you got _my_ attention.”

Isak rolled his eyes above a blush that was entirely beyond his control, and Even laughed. “I know,” he said. “You managed to be pretty obvious.”

“I've recently decided to live life to the fullest,” Even said. “It's short, you should get what you want when you can.”

“Are you saying you want me?” Isak asked.

“Only if that doesn't freak you out.”

“I'm a rape victim,” Isak said, because he needed to be wanted for everything he was. “I was raped.”

“And I tried to end my life,” Even answered, like he wasn't even surprised at all.

“Does it bother you?” Isak asked, suddenly terrified of the answer. “Does it bother you that he... that people don't think I'm clean anymore?”

“No one should ever say that about you,” Even said.

“I know,” Isak said. “I know they shouldn't.”

Even smiled, touching the toe of his sneaker to Isak's foot under the table, and there was something in the clear _purpose_ of the contact that had Isak smiling, too.

“It only bothers me because you were hurt,” Even said. “Because someone thought they could have you when you didn't want them. Nothing else. Nothing else bothers me.”

Isak felt like he couldn't breathe and he didn't know why. It was the air from his lungs in the very best way.

“Doesn't it bother _you_?” Even asked. “That I... that I did what I did?”

And Isak knew it _should,_ that he should be guarded and unwilling to be hurt again, that he should be having blatant memories of his mother's still face, but he wasn't.

“No,” Isak said. “It doesn't bother me.”

Even's smile was like a reward, beaming and significant.

“It only bothers me that you're a dork,” he continued, and Even sighed, but the brightness never left his face.

“Look, Isak, I'm not the one doing homework when we have the literal best excuse in the world to be ditching it.”

Isak rolled his eyes, still smiling. Even made him smile, and few people could anymore. When his mom died, she took that with her and they buried it deep. He didn't know what it meant, smiling after knowing someone for barely a week, and he almost didn't want to find out, in case knowing made it stop. He didn't want it to stop. “I need a little extra help in English,” he said. “It's a hard language. I need to study.”

“English, huh?” Even said, flipping through pages of his sketchbook and landing on a blank one, pulling a pencil into his grasp. “Is that why you're always reading those books in English? Or are you just a nerd? I've never seen such a hot nerd.”

“Dork,” Isak muttered around a blush, looking back down at his keyboard. “How can you want me if you don't even know me?”

“Because I think you're the strongest person in this entire place,” Even said.

“Where's your evidence?” Isak asked, heart beating fast.

“I don't have any,” Even admitted with a shrug, letting the graphite scrape lines on the paper. “It's just a feeling.”

“Feelings don't equal fact.”

“I don't need fact.”

“I can't believe you're flirting with me in a psych ward.”

“Where else am I supposed to flirt with you?”

“That's a good point.”

When Isak smiled at him, Even was already smiling back.

And, shit, why _couldn't_ he have this?

  
*

“I was thinking about cleaning out some of Mamma's stuff this weekend,” his father said softly through the phone. “But if... if you want to go through it, I can wait. We can do it together.”

“I don't want to go through it,” Isak said. “You can do it without me, it's okay.” He was laying on the common room sofa, facing the cushions on the back of the couch and holding the phone to his ear. “But... but you're saving the special stuff, right? You're saving her drawings, and her jewelry?”

“Of course. Of course, Isak, I'm only going to give away her clothes and shoes. Let someone else have them.”

“Okay. That'll be okay, then,” Isak said, grasp on his phone inhibited by the cast.

“How are you holding up?” his dad asked, shuffling around on the other line.

“I'm okay,” he said. “I think it's working a lot better here. You know, than it'd work at home.”

“Good. That's good.”

“Are you doing okay?” Isak asked softly. Because he wasn't the only one who was hurting, and he knew that now.

There was a hesitation before the quiet answer. “The house is a little empty, but I'm alright.”

Isak felt his heart break a little bit. “Do you want me to come home? My two weeks are up, they'll let me leave.”

“No, Isak, don't worry about it. I'm just fine. You come home when you're ready, okay, don't worry about me at all. I just want you to get better.”

He and his father hadn't talked like this in years. They hadn't been there for each other and they hadn't listened. But with everything that'd happened, Isak needed him. They needed each other.

“Do you think you are?” his father asked. “Getting better, I mean.”

Isak pulled his sleeve over his good hand. “The nightmares are coming less, and I'm not, like, flinching at noises so much anymore. It's getting a little bit easier to not panic when I see guys who... who look like him.” He shrugged even though there was no one there to see him do so. “So I'm okay.”

“Are the doctors there helping you cope with... with the stuff that happened with Mamma?” His voice was still hesitant when he broached the subject, because neither of them wanted to discuss it.

“They're trying,” Isak said. “It's hard for me to let them. Every time they bring it up, I just... I see her like I found her.”

The sadness and the pain and the overwhelming hopelessness was evident in his father's voice like it was evident in his entire being, and it broke Isak's fucking heart like everything else seemed to. “Fuck, Isak, I'm sorry.”

“It's not your fault, Pappa. I'm doing okay. Really.”

“Is there anything I can do?” he asked. “Anything I can bring you?”

Isak smiled. “It's okay. You don't have to do anything. You're doing plenty. I miss you, though. I miss the house.”

“You'll be home soon, Isak, as soon as you're ready. I'll clean this whole place out, make it easier, and then... then we'll do what we can to get back to normal.”

“Do you think we can?” Isak asked. “You think we have a normal to get back to?”

“Then we'll make our own. It's okay. We'll survive. You and me, we can do it.”

Isak curled tighter in on himself and said, “I love you.”

“I love you, too, Isak. So fucking much.” Isak smiled at his words, at the sincerity behind them. “I'll come by soon, okay? And I'll talk to you later.”

“Bye, Pappa.”

“Bye, love.”

Isak hung up and rolled over onto his other side so he could survey the empty room around him, clutching the phone in his hands before sitting up.

The ward was always quiet, which Isak hadn't anticipated when he first decided to check in. He didn't know what to expect, but his mother had never been quiet and that was his only experience with mental illness for years. Until she died and everyone told him he was depressed. Until he was raped and they said he had PTSD.

“Isak?”

Isak looked up with a slight start and smiled as he stood. “Hi, Eskild.”

Eskild strode towards him and wrapped him in a hug. “Hi, baby Jesus, how are you doing?”

“I'm okay,” Isak said into his shirt, pulling back and studying him. “I didn't know you were coming.”

“I brought you muffins.”

Isak took the bakery's paper bag in his hands and smiled up at him. “Thank you.”

“How's everything going?” Eskild asked, pulling a chair out and taking a seat at the table in the center of the room. “I hope you're feeling better.”

“I'm really fine,” Isak said, sitting across from him. “Honestly. Every day it gets easier.”

He didn't want to lie about it, he never wanted to lie about his progress. Things weren't good but they were getting better. He was able to function, but some things were harder than others; he had limits now that he hadn't had before, and it was frustrating more than anything. He jumped at loud noises, he panicked when someone touched him without warning, he couldn't go two nights without waking up in a sweat. And every time it happened, he told himself that it was irrational, told himself to calm down and not let it happen again—but it always did. Always. And it pissed him off that he wasn't in control over his mind anymore, that someone else had a hold over his fears now.

“Do you have any friends?” Eskild asked.

“There's a boy who keeps flirting with me,” Isak answered, picking at his cast and smiling into the blush when Eskild let out a happy little whoop.

“Is he hot? Do you like him?”

“He's... handsome, yeah,” Isak said with a nod to the tabletop, smile broadening at Eskild's gasp.

“Oh my God, you're totally gonna come out of here with a psych ward boyfriend, I'm jealous! Being into boys is paying off already, isn't it baby gay?”

Eskild was the first person he told about his sexuality. It was kind of weird, when he thought about it, because he'd known Eskild for the absolute least amount of time possible when he told him, but he trusted him with his life already. He may have even owed Eskild his life. When he woke up in the hospital, Eskild was sitting next to him saying, “I'm sorry, baby, I'm so sorry, I had to tell them, I was scared. It should be yours to tell, it should always be yours to tell, but I didn't know what else to do, you needed medical care.”

“It's okay,” Isak was able to say.

“I'm Eskild,” he said shakily. “In case you forgot.”

“Thank you, Eskild,” he said, eyes falling closed. “I'm Isak.”

It was the next day when Eskild asked him what he was doing in a gay bar, anyways, and Isak said, “I don't know, I guess I'm gay,” and he didn't even freak out about it. He didn't think he'd ever be able to freak out about anything ever again, because within two months he'd lost his mother and his innocence, violently and forcibly. He was in shock when he told Eskild and he was in shock when he told his father, and Eskild just said, “That's okay,” and his father hugged him while he cried and said, “I'll always love you.” He told Jonas over the phone and Eva over text. And he'd been out of the closet for all of two weeks before a hot boy with bipolar walked up and made him start to smile.

“Are you flirting back?” Eskild asked, propping his chin on his fist.

“I guess,” Isak said. “I'm not used to hitting on guys. I had a lot of game with girls, though, so the skills should transfer, right?”

“Maybe,” Eskild said with a shrug. “I don't know, baby gay, I never tried to kid myself. Girls were... not an option for me.”

Isak smiled at him. “Me neither.”

“But, hey, this boy. Is he gonna be good for you?”

“I don't know,” Isak said. “I mean... he doesn't care about... about why I'm in here. Not that he _should_ , not that I have anything to be ashamed of, but just. I don't know, a lot of people would care, I think, and he isn't all hung up on it.”

“Is he in here for a reason that you can... live with? That you can make peace with?”

When Isak was younger he thought that mental illness was something that inevitably tore people apart. He hated it and, for a while, he hated his mother, too. His dad stopped hanging around so much, he started getting less sleep, and instead of blaming the illness, he blamed the person, couldn't disassociate the two. For as long as he could remember, his mother was like this, and so Isak didn't know that she _could_ be any other way. He had to take care of her and he resented the responsibility. He envied other people because their mothers didn't act the way his did.

If he had met Even two years ago, he never would have been able to accept him. He wouldn't be able to accept himself, either, after all of the things that happened to him. Mental illness was something he despised, and he would have hated himself to know that he was suffering from it.

But then he actually talked to his mother, for the first time in a long time. And she loved him just as much with a clouded mind as she would with a clear one.

She wasn't a bad person. She never had been.

And it felt like as soon as Isak realized that, she was taken away from him. He got two years of accepting his mother, of letting himself love her, and then she was gone, and the depression that followed was consuming and drove him to desperate measures. He started drinking more and smoking more. The night he got raped in the bar was only one of many drunken nights made to forget. That one just ended differently.

But, fuck, he was doing okay, after everything. He missed his mom every second and there wasn't an hour that went by that he didn't think about what had happened to him, but he was doing okay. His life was getting more bearable now than it was in the time directly following his mother's death.

He was doing fine. He was getting better. And he was proud of himself for it.

  
*

It was the middle of the night and he couldn't sleep like he could never sleep. He'd taken to napping all day because he didn't get nightmares in the light, and then found that sleep was fleeting at lights-out.

So he wandered around the dim hallways like he always did. He avoided the nurse posted at the station and the aids in the break room. He walked through the empty cafeteria and the common rooms and when he made his way back down the hall to his room he collided into another body in a way that made him panic instantly and try to fight.

Terrified, he shoved and clawed and scratched, he felt his vision white out and it was like he was back in the alleyway behind the bar, he was too small to fight, he was going to be used and hurt and he couldn't be hurt again.

And the person let him fight, let themselves be hit, whispering something that Isak couldn't process but not pushing him off, only stepping back to give him space. And when Isak came back into his body and could separate his fears from reality again, enough to know that this wasn't the man and that no one in this place wanted to hurt him, he looked up at Even, who was standing a few feet in front of him with his hands held up at his sides.

Isak's heart was still beating fast and he'd felt the beginning of tears try to form in his eyes, and, _fuck,_ if there was ever a chance that Even liked him before, he wouldn't anymore. How could he? How could anyone?

“Are you okay?” Even asked in a whisper, keeping his distance. Even in the darkness Isak could see how genuine his face was, how truly concerned his expression was. Isak told himself he didn't want concern, but then he knew that was an irrational thing to ask of someone.

“I'm sorry,” Isak said. He was shaking and he hated it. He hated what that man had done to him, how it made him feel, how it affected him every day of his life. “I'm sorry, I thought.... It's not you, you didn't do anything.”

“Hey, it's okay,” Even said. “It's fine, I'm fine.”

“Fuck, I'm sorry,” Isak said.

“Isak,” Even said, lowering his hands but not touching him. He had bandages on his forearms and they weren't covered by long sleeves like they usually were. “It's really fine. I understand. You don't have to be sorry. I understand.”

Isak's breathing slowed and his heart rate calmed and he looked up at Even with big eyes. He couldn't even feel embarrassed, really, because Even wasn't looking at him in fear or pity or anything that would warrant embarrassment.

“Do you want to sit down?” Even asked.

“I was... on my way to my room,” Isak answered. “Do you... wanna sit with me?”

When they were in Isak's room with the door closed, sitting on the bed with space between them, Even said, “Can't sleep?”

“I can never sleep.” Isak threw him a small smile. “What about you?”

“The meds I'm on are messing up my schedule,” Even said. “I sleep all day and I'm up all night.”

“Me, too,” Isak said, with a smile that fell after a few seconds, eyes downcast. “I'm... I shouldn't have hit you, and stuff, in the hallway.”

“Hey, don't apologize,” Even said easily. “Don't worry about it. Okay? Not everything's easy, that's okay.”

“Yeah?” Isak asked.

“Yeah,” Even said. “I still like you.”

Isak rolled his eyes as Even laughed. “God, you're such a loser.”

“And you're very cute,” Even replied with a terrible wink that Isak had to laugh at. “Hey, I saw you with your visitor the other day,” he said after a second, looking up at Isak and leaning back against the wall that the bed was pushed against. Isak raised his eyebrows at him. “The tall guy?” Even continued.

“Eskild, yeah, I know who you're talking about,” Isak said with a smile. “What about him?”

“Is he your boyfriend?”

Isak laughed. “No!”

“Really? Just a friend? You promise?”

“You're so desperate,” Isak said. He cleared his throat and the smile fell from his face. “No, Eskild actually... he found me after the guy hurt me. He took me to the hospital and, like, called my dad, and stuff.”

“Oh,” Even said, watching him carefully.

“I'm okay, though,” Isak said. “Eskild made sure I was okay. But, no, he's not my boyfriend.”

“That's good.”

“Is it?”

“It means you're in need of a boyfriend,” Even said with a grin.

“What if I don't like boys?” Isak said.

“Then that would be unfortunate,” Even said. “I've been burned before.”

Isak studied him, tipping his head back against the wall. “I'm gonna say one nice thing to you,” he said after a second, so that Even's face would brighten. It did, beautifully, and Even asked, “Really? What?”

“I like boys, and I like you.”

The smile Even gave him in return was well worth the sacrifice of his pride.

Even fell asleep in his bed an hour later, as they talked about music and movies and mulitverse theories, and Isak couldn't bring himself to wake him up or move him. He realized that Even must put all his energy into their minor interactions, because he didn't have that much to spare. It made him feel special. Wanted.

Isak grabbed his book from the floor and read until his eyes closed, and he hoped that when he woke up he wouldn't freak out at a second body in his bed. Right now it was comforting, though, and it was warm. It was nice, it was what he thought he couldn't have anymore.

He laid next to Even and fell asleep with their shoulders touching.

  
*

Jonas and Eva understood that they could only visit for a certain amount of time before Isak got tired and overwhelmed and wanted to go back to his bed. He'd always rather talk on the phone than have people visit him, he couldn't handle the interactions for very long, but he made himself let them in because more than anything it was important to not cut people off. He couldn't do this alone anymore.

“Why do you keep ignoring me?” Eva asked, looking over her shoulder to try to catch sight of what Isak kept looking at and smiling at, and her eyes widened when she saw a cute boy drawing something in the corner of the common room. “Holy shit,” she said, turning back around to whisper to Isak with her palms flat on the table as she leaned across. Jonas glanced over his shoulder to try to see what she saw, and Isak had started blushing as soon as Eva caught him staring. “Holy shit, he's handsome. Do you like him? Oh my God, you _like_ him! You've been gay for ten seconds and you've already got the hottest guy in Oslo interested in you.”

“I'm the hottest guy in Oslo,” Jonas said.

“I'm don't have to agree with you anymore,” Eva said, smiling sweetly. “Since we're not dating.”

“One day, Eva,” Jonas said, sighing. “One day I'll get you back.”

Eva rolled her eyes and Isak hoped that she'd forgotten about her line of questioning, but she turned on him with renewed ferocity. “Are you hooking up?” she asked in the loudest whisper he'd ever heard.

“No, oh my God!” he said, glancing at Even over her shoulder and flushing pink when Even caught his eye.

“He looks like he'd be a good kisser,” Eva said, turning bodily to look at Even again, until Jonas saved Isak and pulled her back to face forward with a muttered, “Jesus, Eva, subtlety.”

“Are you into him?” Eva asked, leaning conspiratorially over the table and actually whispering in a low volume.

“I don't know yet,” Isak answered shyly. Lies. That was a lie, and not a very good one.

“Is he into you?” Jonas asked, leaning forward, too, so that they were in a little huddle over the center of the table.

“I think so,” Isak said, glancing at Even, who was smiling at his sketchpad, well aware that he was being talked about. He was being a good sport about it. He was a good sport about everything. “Maybe.”

“He's hot,” Eva said again.

“Thank you, I understand that,” Isak said. “I can see.”

“Being in here hasn't made you any less grumpy,” she said.

“Do you two talk?” Jonas asked. “What do you do together?”

“I don't know, we eat together, and he flirts with me, and the other night we walked around the ward in the middle of the night and he fell asleep in my bed and I didn't even freak out.”

“He doesn't make you... nervous, or anything?” Jonas asked.

“I feel completely comfortable around him,” Isak said, looking into Even's eyes. “I don't know why.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: mentions of past rape, mentions of suicide attempts, mentions of a hospital stay, symptoms of ptsd
> 
> the way isak thinks about his situation in this chapter is by no means the only way that survivors think about themselves. isak doesn't blame himself, he doesn't think he's responsible, but a lot of victims do. i just wanted to show that recovering can go a lot of different ways.


	3. Even

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi everyone so sorry for the long wait! i've had extended family in town and had to kind of put my life on hold while they were visiting.  
> but they're gone and here's chapter 3!  
> thank you so much for your kudos and comments, they really help motivate me to get this out for you. my tumblr is @supermansplaining if you want to talk, i love hearing from you there, too :)  
> enjoy!

*

When Even woke up from yet another midday nap, the ward was empty. It was like the start of a zombie movie, quiet and white and barren, and he didn't see a single other soul as he padded around until he found Isak on the floor, leaning against the wall of the hallway between the cafeteria and the common room with a book in his lap.

“Hey,” Even said, voice bouncing off the walls and startling Isak so much that he clutched the book to his chest and brought his knees up protectively as he looked up. “Sorry,” Even said quickly. “Shit, sorry, I'm never thinking.”

Isak had adopted a small, defensive smile as soon as he recognized Even, his body unfolding across the floor again and his book falling into his lap. “You don't have to apologize so much,” he sighed, still catching his breath. He was relaxing his muscles half by force alone and Even hated that he'd scared him and he hated that someone else hurt him enough to permanently scar him like this. “You can sit,” Isak offered, voice rising almost hopefully.

“I don't mean to startle you,” Even said, taking a seat next to Isak but leaving enough space between them that their arms wouldn't brush. Contact seemed to make Isak jump, and it was hurting Even to be the reason for Isak's fear, even if it was only for a few seconds, even if it wasn't his fault but some asshole who assaulted a child. “But it kind of seems to be all I do.”

“It's fine,” Isak said. “I'm kind of... glad you're forgetting. It means you don't, you know, think of what happened to me every time you look at me.”

“I never see you as a victim,” Even said. “If that's what you're worried about.”

“I don't like when people treat me like I'm broken,” Isak said, more to the book in his lap than to Even.

“Promise you I won't,” Even said, and Isak looked up at him with a small smile. “You know what we should do?” he asked after a second, and Isak raised his eyebrows slightly.

“What?” he asked.

“We should just stop taking it all so fucking seriously.” He grinned at Isak's small, confused smile. “You know? Just... we talk about our issues enough in therapy, I know your problems and you know mine. Maybe we should just... stop. Use our time together to be normal fucking teenagers, instead of talking about our mental illnesses all the time. Just because we're in a psych ward doesn't mean it's the only part of our identities.”

“So...” Isak started slowly, catching onto his words. “So, a ban on all the heavy things?”

“Not a ban,” Even said. “Just... don't hang so much weight on them. It doesn't _have_ to be heavy.”

Isak smiled. “I guess it doesn't.”

“It can just be information. Like, here: I'm on three different medications right now. No big deal. Just something.”

“I like that,” Isak said.

“I like _you_.”

“Oh, we're back to this?”

“You said it back!”

“That was a moment of weakness,” Isak said with a slight blush and a wide smile. Even would be happy if all he ever accomplished for the rest of his life was making Isak smile.

“Hey, where is everybody?” he asked, glancing around the empty halls again, his legs sprawled out in front of him, barefoot in sweatpants.

“The craft session,” Isak said, fiddling with the pages of his book as he looked at Even. “The lady who runs it brings brownies, so everyone goes.”

“Damn,” Even said. “I want a brownie.”

“If you go in there for a brownie they make you stay for the whole session.”

“Maybe I need a crafts lesson,” Even said.

“Don't you go to Bakka?” Isak asked. “Aren't you an art nerd? If you need a crafts session, what are you always drawing in that sketchbook?”

“You,” Even said with a wink, and Isak rolled his eyes. There it is.

“You are not.”

“I am!” Even protested with a laugh, laying a hand over his heart. “Among other things.”

“Other people?” Isak asked with a smirk.

“Just the pretty people.”

“Are there a lot of those in here?”

“None as pretty as you.”

Another eye roll. Even had grown quite fond of them. “You're exhausting.”

“I thought you liked me!”

“I told you that was a moment of weakness!”

“Does that mean it isn't true?”

And with that, somehow, the banter was over and there was a certain pleasant tension in the air between them, a space that had dwindled considerably in the short time they'd been talking so that their shoulders were touching and their faces were inches apart.

Isak pulled back, blushing, turning his head to the opposite wall and saying, “It was a little bit true.”

Even smiled and leaned back and they sat in comfortable silence for a long time, because they could.

  
*

“Isak. Do you have anything to share?”

Isak tore his eyes from Even's gaze and looked at Adrian with raised eyebrows. “Hm?”

“I encourage you to pay attention during therapy,” Adrian said with a smile.

Isak gave him a thumbs up. “Got it. Just. Repeat the question and then I'll answer and listen and stuff.”

“Right,” Adrian said, glancing at Even, who was watching the exchange with a smile before blushing at the sudden attention of a knowing gaze. “Do you have anything to share with the group, Isak?”

“Oh. Right. Therapy.” Isak looked at Even and Even preened at the attention. “Well,” he said, turning back to Adrian and noticeably deflating back into the withholding storyteller that Even had first witnessed, wilting under the pressure of eyes on him. “Everything's going well. I've been talking with my dad a lot. He's... cleaning out my mom's stuff, so that when I get back it'll be easier for us to, like, cope, or something. I don't know.”

“How are you feeling about living with your father again after this?” Adrian asked. “I know you've had your problems in the past, would you like to talk about that?”

“I don't know,” Isak said, and this was something that Even didn't know about. He knew why Isak was here and what had happened with his mother and a thousand other little inconsequential things. That Isak played soccer for eight years, that he preferred cats over dogs and fish over cats, that his favorite show was _Stranger Things_ , that he was better at science and math than language and art. He knew that Isak's best friends were named Jonas and Eva, that Isak wanted to visit America, that he couldn't cook eggs, that he loved to smoke pot. Knowing things about Isak made Even happy. He wanted to know everything.

“I guess we're doing well,” Isak continued. “We're actually talking. We never used to talk. But when my mom died and I... got hurt, we started to, like, communicate. And I think we're gonna be okay.”

“That's wonderful, Isak,” Adrian said. “Do you have any concerns, anything you want to talk about?”

Isak glanced at Even, blushed as he cast his eyes down, and said, “I'm pretty happy, actually.”

When Adrian moved on to another person—Tomas, whose reaction to his psychological problems had ruined every relationship he'd ever had and whose stories made Even sad for hours afterwards—Even was able to blatantly stare at Isak again, like he'd been doing for the entirety of the group therapy session. And Isak was staring back, smiling at him slyly like he knew exactly what he was doing.

For someone who'd been out and proud for all of three weeks, Isak sure was a good flirt. Even's gender didn't make Isak uncomfortable, he didn't freak out because he was flirting with a boy instead of a girl. And Even was still getting used to it, too, getting used to not being rejected by a boy, because the only other time he'd tried he'd been turned down fervently.

He knew Mikael was sorry. He knew that he genuinely was, that he wasn't only saying it to save face or protect his image from a homophobic tint. But Even was still embarrassed, he was humiliated. That was why he still hadn't talked to him, answered his messages, or let Elias or Yousef bring Mikael or either of the other boys. He was just fucking embarrassed, because it was embarrassing. He'd tried to kiss one of his best friends, who he didn't even have feelings for like that, because he was drunk and high and _manic_ , and he'd been told that he was wrong and disgusting for it. And he knew that Mikael didn't really feel that way, he _knew_ that. Most of what he'd said was referring to Even cheating on Sonja in general, not Even cheating with another _boy._ And the casual homophobia was born more from drunken inability to handle the situation, not true belief that Even would end up in hell.

He knew it all, he knew the facts, but he still didn't know what to _think._

Even just needed time. That was it. Time.

So he focused on Isak. On his pretty eyes, his long lashes. On the way he smiled and tried to cover it up, tried to look at Even in nonchalance.

“Even?”

By the tone that he caught onto when he finally was torn from his trance, he expected that Adrian had been trying to get his attention for a while. And as Even looked at him, Adrian was glancing between him and Isak, clearly having noticed as anyone would who was paying even minute attention.

“Yeah, sorry. What was the question?” Even asked, trying to pull Adrian's eyes from a blushing Isak.

“Do you have anything to share? With the group?” Adrian sounded more amused than anything. Even supposed that he was a hard guy to anger, or even mildly annoy.

“Um... not much... new. I'm getting my stitches out sometime this week, I think.” Which would be a fucking blessing because seeing them was a reminder, and maybe just the healing scars wouldn't be much better but it was a start. This was a time of new starts. “And having some time away from my parents is really nice, because I feel really fucking... guilty around them, for what I did.”

“That's understandable,” Adrian said. “It's still new. It's been a week since you got out of the hospital. With help, though, the guilt will go away.”

Even nodded, not looking at Isak. “I hope so. But, yeah, everything else is fine. My new medications are fucking up my sleep schedule a little bit, but I'm getting more used to them.”

“That's good,” Adrian said with a smile.

“It is,” Even said, glancing at Isak again before looking back at Adrian. “It's good. But, I mean, other than that, I'm good. Fine, I mean. Getting better.”

Isak was smiling at him in that cute shy way he did, even though Even knew he was everything but shy. It made Even like him even better, if that was at all possible. For someone he'd met a week ago, he sure was invested.

That wasn't necessarily a bad thing, though.

  
*

Even was never quite sure how to announce his presence to Isak without startling him, especially when it was the middle of the night and most of the ward lights were off and the hallways were dim, and neither of them were supposed to be awake. Because scaring Isak was something he hated, but spending time with him was something he wanted.

Isak was eating a bag of chips in a hallway near the cafeteria, his crunching loud and echoing. And when Even said, “Hey,” in a loud whisper, trying to ease Isak into a clue of his presence, Isak jumped anyways, body moving away from him. Of course, in a dark place that was supposed to be empty at this time of night, he didn't imagine that anyone would react particularly well, post-traumatic stress disorder or not.

“Shit, Even,” he said, catching his breath and offering a wavering smile. Even couldn't imagine what it was like for him, to be so scarred by one man. To have been damaged by him so thoroughly that it impacted everything else. “What are you doing up?”

“Meds,” Even said. “Same deal as the last time. Sorry for sneaking up.”

“It's fine,” Isak said.

“I hate scaring you.”

“It's not you. It's... him.” He gestured vaguely and clutched the bag of chips in his good hand. “Everyone freaks me out because of what this one guy did, so it's his fault, not yours.”

Even wasn't an angry person, he hated conflict, his fight or flight instinct always leant in one direction. He was a pacifist and he'd never been in a fight or even considered entering one. But every time Isak mentioned the man that had hurt him, the man who had taken what wasn't given, and who _continued_ to hurt him even after it happened, Even couldn't wish that he ever got away with anything less than the pain he'd caused. He deserved to feel what he'd inflicted, and he never would.

“Want some?” Isak asked, pushing the chips in front of Even's face.

“Where'd you even get these?” Even asked, taking one from the bag.

“My dad brings me food when he visits,” Isak said, looking into the bag and fishing another chip out. “He's not supposed to. But he does.”

“That's nice of him,” Even said.

“Yeah,” Isak said with a smile, looking up at him, making Even smile, too. “Want to take a walk?”

“A walk?” Even asked.

“Yeah, like, around the ward,” Isak said. “I'm sure there's a lot of places you haven't seen yet.”

This was true, because Even was still in a stage of his recovery where he could do little else but move in a tiny square between his bed, the cafeteria, the common room, and Doctor Einar's office. “Okay,” Even said. “Let's go.”

“You have to be quiet,” Isak said, backing away from him. “I can't have you getting me into trouble.”

“I'd never get you in trouble,” Even said, stepping towards him. Isak didn't step back, just smiled at him.

“No?” Isak asked, tilting his head up as Even stepped even closer, a few inches taller.

“Never.”

Isak smiled and took his hand, laced their fingers together, and started to lead him away. The touch was electric and Even's smile so wide it felt like it'd split his face in two. They walked for close to an hour, sharing stories in whispers, avoiding the lights of the nurse's station, the break room. And then they went back to Isak's room, fingers still locked, hands getting sweaty but both reluctant to pull apart even then. It felt good to do this again. Even couldn't remember the last time he and Sonja held hands just because they wanted to, just because they could.

Even always sat down far enough away to give Isak space, and Isak always closed the distance. On the bed with their backs against the wall, their sides were pressed flush together. Even reached for his hand again, hesitantly, and Isak smiled as he took it, linking their fingers on top of Isak's thigh.

“You're really fucking cute,” Even said, cupping their joined hands with his free one.

“I'm not cute,” Isak answered without bite, resting his head on Even's shoulder as his eyes fluttered shut.

“The cutest.”

“I'm manly,” Isak said, stroking Even's hand with his thumb. “And... buff. Not cute. Never cute.”

“Fine,” Even said. “You're so manly, Isak. And so buff.”

“That's the way to my heart,” Isak said, yawning. Even leaned forward a bit to look at his relaxed face, his droopy eyes.

“Go to sleep, beautiful,” Even said.

“I'm beautiful, too?”

“Cute and manly and buff and beautiful,” Even said with a smile. “You're everything. Perfect.”

“You're cheesy,” Isak said, amusement in his tone.

“I am. Just for you. Come on, I'll leave you alone. Go to sleep.”

“You don't have to leave,” Isak mumbled sleepily, pushing himself down beneath the thin blankets to lay on the mattress. There wasn't a lot of room on the double bed, but there'd been enough space last time they did this to barely touch each other.

“Really?” Even asked. “You sure?”

“Just get in bed, Even,” he said into the pillow. “Get under the covers and let me lay on top of you. It's fine.”

“You're bossy,” Even said, heart jumping as he slid beneath the blankets and laid on his back. Isak rolled over and set his head on Even's chest, his plastered arm lying over his stomach.

“Get used to it,” Isak said. “This is after only knowing me for a week.”

Ten days he'd been in the ward. It was nothing. “Feels like longer,” Even murmured, tracing his fingers down Isak's spine, feeling the sheer exhaustion of the day's activities catching up to him.

“It does,” Isak said. “It feels like longer.”

Even smiled, rested his palm flat on the small of Isak's back. “Goodnight, Isak.”

“Night, Even.”

The last time they fell asleep together, Even woke up first and didn't know what to do. He didn't want Isak to wake and then panic that there was someone in his bed when there shouldn't have been. But Isak had woken up, too, stretched a little, and smiled at him. And they'd gotten up, gone to breakfast, and gone their separate ways.

This time he didn't wake up until well after breakfast was over, with Isak still asleep beside him, rolled away from him in sleep with his knees drawn up and his right hand under his head. Even turned over tiredly to trace his eyes over Isak's profile, and then sat up carefully so he didn't wake him as he slipped out of bed. With a glance around he picked up one of Isak's notebooks and a pen, then tore a page out as quietly as possible and sketched on it quickly, a sleeping Isak, the words _Come find me later_ scribed beneath it with a heart. He set the paper on the side of the bed he'd vacated, stroked Isak's hair once, and went to take a shower.

When he saw Isak at lunch the boy smiled and let him sit and said, “That was cute, what you did. But next time, stay. Next time you can stay.”

  
*

Even was not allowed to shave by himself.

This was something he discovered halfway through his second week at the ward, on a Wednesday when he was feeling good enough to take care of his personal hygiene. He showered and got dressed and brushed his teeth, and ran his fingers through his hair as he tried to find someone to ask for a razor.

“Hey,” Isak said, falling into step beside him and slipping his hand into Even's.

“Hey,” Even answered, squeezing his fingers. “Sleep well?”

“It was okay. Where are you going?”

“I need to find a razor.”

Isak released his hand to reach up and cup Even's face, running his thumb along the sharp stubble. “You do. That wouldn't feel good.”

“Mm, feel good during what?”

Isak rolled his eyes and slipped his hand back into Even's. “Shut up, Even.”

“No, I want to know what you're thinking of us doing where my stubble wouldn't feel good.”

“Nothing if you keep talking.”

“Got it.” He stroked the back of Isak's hand with his thumb, liking the development that had occurred. Liking that he and Isak held hands, now, without talking about anything else to do with what they were, without making a big deal out of it. Part of the ban on the heaviness, he assumed. Or maybe it was just they way they were together. “So where are we going? Where are you taking me?”

“To the nurse's station,” Isak said.

“They have razors?”

“That's where they keep them,” Isak said. “Anything dangerous, or, sharp, or that someone can wrap around their necks, or something? None of us are allowed to keep them, even if we're not a... danger to ourselves.” He hung onto Even's arm with the casted hand not in Even's, hugging it as they walked, but releasing him altogether before entering into the sight of the nurses. “Hi, Nurse Ratchet,” he said, setting both of his hands palm down on the desk. The woman behind the desk looked up at him with a smile.

“You're hilarious,” she said.

“Full of culture,” Isak said.

“All those damn books you're reading.”

“Are you encouraging me not to read?”

The nurse rolled her eyes fondly. Everyone here seemed to be fond of Isak. He'd made quite an impression in the week he'd been there before Even arrived. “What can I do for you, kid?”

“My friend here needs a razor,” Isak said, patting Even's shoulder.

“Does your friend there have a name?” the woman asked.

“Even,” Isak said.

“And a last name?”

“Bech Næsheim,” Even offered, and she tapped something into the computer as she said, “Nice to meet you, Even, I haven't had the pleasure yet. I'm Camila.”

“Hi,” he said uncertainly, glancing at Isak.

“Nurse Ratchet is from _One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest,_ ” Camila said. “Isak thinks he's clever.”

“Right,” Even said in sudden realization. “The movie with Jack Nicholson.”

“Um, the _book_ by Ken Kesey,” Isak said, drawing back to stare at him.

“I'm not gonna argue with you about this now,” Even said, “but movies are better than books.”

“I don't like you anymore,” Isak said.

“Don't say that, beautiful.”

“For the comfort of the two of you,” Camila said, reminding them of her presence and making Even blush, “I'm going to pretend that I didn't see that. Because if I did someone would lecture you on the dangers of entering into a relationship with another patient and hindering the individual progress of both of you.” She stood up. “Head into the bathroom and an aid will meet you there with the razor.”

“Someone will... meet me there?” Even asked, glancing at Isak who raised his eyebrows at him and shrugged.

“You're on suicide watch,” Camila said. “Supervised shaving only, sorry, love.”

Isak smiled a little bit as Camila turned away to get the aid, and hung onto Even's arm again, looking up. “Supervised shaving only,” he said. “How sad for you.”

“You always know how to make me feel better,” Even said.

“Sorry. I'll go with you, though,” he teased. “Double supervision. You'll be _so_ safe, Even.”

“That means the world,” Even said, taking his hand and dragging him to the bathroom.

“Even! I was kidding. I don't want to watch you shave while some other guy _also_ watches you shave,” Isak whined as he was tugged to the sink.

“Don't be jealous, Isak.”

“Ha. Funny.” Isak stepped back from him and stretched their arms out, hands still laced together, and then pushed back in to crowd against Even's chest, linking their other hands, too, as best he could with the cast as a hindrance. “I know I don't have to be jealous. I know you're easy.”

“You know I'm easy?” Even asked, looking down at him. “How do you know that?”

“Because I've known you for a week and a half and we're holding hands and you're letting me press all up against your chest like this,” Isak said, smiling.

And they _hadn't_ known each other for long, not at all, but Even felt like he _knew_ him. He knew all the little things about Isak's life and all the big things, too. They hadn't had long to talk but they'd made the absolute most of the time they did have. Banter interspersed with short personal stories, some things that would normally hold weight that made it hard to share, but with their deal, with their ban on heaviness, they weren't hard to talk about.

“Have you ever kissed a boy before?” Isak asked, stepping even closer.

“I've tried,” Even said hoarsely, trying to calm his racing heart. He cleared his throat. “It didn't work very well.”

Isak made a thoughtful noise. Even wondered if he was this confident with everyone, or if it was just his newfound comfort with his sexuality that was making him so bold. He wondered how it would have gone if he met Isak before he was out, before he could admit to himself that this was something he wanted and something he could have.

And then a man in scrubs came in, smiling brightly, holding a razor and shaving cream and introducing himself as Kenneth as Isak and Even pulled apart quickly, Even turning towards the door.

“Hi, Isak,” Kenneth said. “Good to see you again. And you must be Even?”

“Yes, hi,” Even said, trying hard to fight down his blush.

“Here,” Kenneth said, handing over the shaving cream and the razor.

Even glanced at Isak, who was smiling in wide-eyed amusement, and then set the items on the sink. “Thanks.”

“How long are you staying, kiddo?” Kenneth asked Isak, one of them on either side of Even and his sink.

“I don't know,” Isak said. “A while longer, I think. I'm not quite ready to... reenter the real world.”

Even smiled at him in the mirror as he spread the shaving cream along his jaw, and Isak caught his reflection's eye and smiled back.

When he had shaved and listened to Kenneth and Isak talk endlessly for the entire time about some professional soccer team Even knew nothing about, Kenneth gathered up the shaving instruments and left Isak and Even alone.

Isak cupped his smooth cheek and soothed his thumb over it with a smile. “That's better,” he said, and Even took his hand and kissed his fingers, and Isak let him, happily.

So maybe he could have this. Maybe he could have what he'd never thought he could have with someone better than he ever could have imagined. He hoped so.

  
*

They held hands all the time now, when there was no risk of getting caught. They also spent most of their time together, slowly learning more, learning everything. At night, if one was up, they checked the bedroom of the other to see if they could have company. And they usually did, and they always ended up in Isak's bed, at least for a little while. Since the second time they'd woken up in the same bed, Even hadn't fallen asleep there again, even when he'd officially been there for two weeks, fourteen days, and the week drew to a close.

This Sunday night was different. Soon after lights out he went to Isak's room and knocked, pushing the door open a bit to whisper his name.

The door was pulled open and Isak stood in front of him with a smile. “Hi,” he said, tugging Even inside and closing the door behind them. “What are you doing here so early?”

“Maybe I just missed you,” Even said, letting Isak tangle their fingers together and drag him to the bed.

“What's the real reason?” Isak asked.

“We're gonna watch a movie together.”

“Even,” Isak huffed, sitting down on the bed's left side as Even picked up Isak's laptop from the floor. “I don't like movies.”

“I'll make you like movies,” Even said, sitting down next him. “If I open this will I find porn?”

Isak rolled his eyes. “No.”

“Type in your password,” Even said, tilting the computer towards him and leaning in. Isak tapped on the keyboard too fast for Even to discern the order of the letters and pushed the laptop back to him.

“What are we watching?” Isak asked, seemingly resigned to his fate, leaning his head on Even's shoulder to watch the screen.

“ _One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest,_ ” Even teased, and Isak snorted.

“Funny.”

“No, something romantic.”

“Wow,” Isak said. “You're coming on strong.”

“Ever seen _Romeo + Juliet_?” Even asked, already typing it into the search bar.

“No,” Isak said, but didn't argue like Even thought he would.

“It's my favorite movie,” Even said. “By my favorite director.”

“Okay,” Isak said. “Let's watch it, then.” He took hold of Even's left arm and wrapped it around his shoulders, leaning into his side.

Even found an illegal version on a sketchy site that would hopefully not download viruses onto Isak's computer, then settled down with the lamp turned off and Isak's head on his chest. Even was sat up against the single pillow Isak was allotted, dragging his hand across the expanse of Isak's back, over the smooth cotton of his Simpson's t-shirt.

They managed to stay awake until the end of the movie with only minor interruptions to swap anecdotes, or for Isak to ask questions when he got confused. And Isak looked up at him as the movie drew to a close, eyes shining a little bit.

“That was sad,” he said softly.

“You knew it would be,” Even said. “You've read it, right?”

“Yeah, but... I don't know, I thought maybe they'd change the ending, or something. I don't like sad movies.”

“It's more realistic,” Even said as the credits rolled, holding Isak tighter and looking down at him.

“It's not,” Isak said. “There are happy endings in real life.”

“Not as often as there are sad ones,” Even said.

“Don't think like that,” Isak said, nestling his head into Even's neck. “If you think your moments will end in tragedy, they almost certainly will. Just take it chill. Take it a minute at a time. And there are happy endings that you didn't think existed. You'll see.”

Even smiled down at him, kissed the top of his head, his blonde curls soft against his cheek as he rested it there. “Maybe you're right.”

“You'll find that I'm always right,” Isak said.

“I believe you,” Even said.

“Will you stay tonight?” Isak asked.

“If you want me to.”

“I do.”

So they laid down together, they talked in whispers in the darkness, and Isak fell asleep first with his face next to Even's on the pillow. Even closed his eyes soon after, and looked forward to waking up for another day spent healing, spent feeling better, spent with Isak.

 


	4. Isak

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi loves thank you so so much for all the kudos and comments you leave me, i love them so much and they really help motivate me :) writing always feels so worth it when you guys tell me you like it <3  
> my tumblr is @supermansplaining, you can ask me anything there!  
> warnings are in the end notes :)  
> please enjoy!

*

The end of this week would mark a month since he entered the hospital. The beginning of the week marked a month since it happened at all.

He knew he shouldn't feel bad about the time of his stay, the length of it that seemed to drag out into a future he could hardly picture anymore. He knew there were people there for much longer, that PTSD was a tough and long recovery, that this hospital was doing all it could to help him and he was doing the absolute best that he could. None of it was his fault and he knew that, he really did. But it was just—

It'd been a month since it happened, and even the exponential progress he'd made wasn't enough.

What frustrated him was that healing wasn't linear. That it wasn't his fault nor something he could control, something he could force into submission. Control was an issue for him, especially now. His mother's death had been out of his control and the pain someone caused him had been out of his control.

“This is you handling your pain to the best of your ability,” Doctor Kinsey said, moving her piece on the checkerboard but keeping her finger on top as she looked around for possible attacks. “Yes, it's out of your control, but you have to _want_ to heal to be able to heal, and you want it more than anyone I know.” She removed her fingertip from the top of the checker and leaned back. “Your turn.”

“I know I _want_ to heal, and it just... sucks that I'm not,” Isak said, moving his piece with a lot less thought and then letting Doctor Kinsey jump him for the win. He leaned back in the leather chair and looked at her. “I'm _trying_ , all the goddamn time, and I'm doing everything I'm supposed to, and I'm trying to get back into my normal life with school and stuff, but no matter what I do it's just... not enough. Every time I feel better I slide back and even when I make real, actual progress, it's nothing like what I need. I still jump all the time and I'm scared when people touch me and... even people I want to be with, I just....” He shook his head and fingered the edge of his cast absently. “I'm worried about the future, too.”

She hummed and picked up her legal pad, tapping her pen on it. “What do you mean?”

“I feel like it'll just... damage any relationship I try to have in the future,” Isak said. “What happened will, like, make me unable to be attached to anyone else, or trust them completely, or be able to be... you know, intimate, or whatever.”

She nodded. “Well,” she said. “There's more to intimacy than just sex, if that's what you're worried about.”

“I mean... I _know_ that,” he said, face heating up a bit at talking about it. “I still want to be able to, though. I don't want him to ruin that.”

“And he shouldn't, you're completely right,” she said, nodding empathetically. “He shouldn't have that power over you, he shouldn't be able to dictate your future. And we'll work on that, I promise. Here's what I know, though. It's absolutely possible to enjoy sex again after a rape. Especially if you're with someone you love and trust. But know that there's no rush. It takes time, and rushing into it won't help your psyche at all.”

Isak nodded and looked down at his hands. The man who hurt him ran a thousand little aspects of his life, even now. Things out of Isak's control were in the control of a violent stranger instead, and that was the worst thing of the entire ordeal. That it didn't _end_ when Eskild punched the guy. It didn't _end_ when Isak was in the hospital. And it _wouldn't_ end, either, not now and not for a long time and possibly not ever.

“There's a boy I like,” Isak said suddenly, looking up at Doctor Kinsey again.

“Really?” she asked in total interest, leaning forward and touching the back of her pen to her lips, smiling. Isak rolled his eyes. “Who is this boy?”

“He's... another patient,” Isak said, waiting for the inevitable lecture. He knew that maybe it wasn't the smartest idea, to get involved with someone who needed help and support as much as he did. He knew that they should probably be focusing all their energy on their own healing, not the healing of each other. But he also just... didn't care. Even made him feel better, lighter. Holding his hand made him feel grounded, and being in bed with him made him feel safe. He didn't think Even would hurt him and he trusted him more than he could trust anyone lately. And he was cautious, yes, because what happened had taught him to be cautious to an extent that was suffocating, but he still felt his walls thin out when it was Even around him. “Are you going to tell me I shouldn't like him?” Isak asked when Doctor Kinsey hadn't said anything.

“I'm not going to tell you to do anything,” she said. “I'll never tell you what to do, Isak, everything is your choice.”

“But do you think it's a bad idea?” Isak asked. “He tried to kill himself. I know I can't survive that again.”

“Do you trust that he wants to get better?” Doctor Kinsey asked.

Isak nodded. “Yeah, I think he does. I trust him a lot, though, and it kind of scares me.”

“Because you think you'll be let down?” she asked.

“That, and... the last time I trusted someone I didn't know... you know what happened.” His voice was soft and when he looked up at her, her gaze was softer.

“Get to know him, then,” she said. “I know they say not to get too close to each other, I know it's one of the unofficial rules. And for some people, romantic relationships in a place like this _aren't_ the best and _aren't_ the healthiest. But you... you need relationships, to heal. You need to be close to people, you need to trust people. Especially men. So I'm telling you to disregard everyone else, okay? They don't matter. If you feel like this is something you want and something you can have, someone who's safe and who likes you and treats you well, then I don't think it's bad at all to go after it.”

Isak let his mouth turn up into a smile. “Really?”

She grinned. “Yes, Isak, I think it could help. Going after what you want is something I want you to be able to do in the future. I don't want that man to take away anything, okay, including your freedom and your trust. And we'll work on that. But for now, your session is over, and I'll see you on Wednesday.”

“It's been a month since it happened, you know,” Isak said. “Saturday it was... to the day.”

“And next Saturday will be a month to the day from your first day here,” Doctor Kinsey said. “Your first day getting help. I'm so proud of you. You're so strong.”

“Does that mean I can call you Ellen?” he asked.

“Survive a month in therapy and you can call me Ellen,” Doctor Kinsey said.

“Because I'm your favorite.”

“Have a good day, Isak.”

“Bye _Doctor_. I'll see you on Wednesday.”

“Good luck with your very handsome boyfriend,” she said with a smile as he made his way to the door. “I hope it works out.”

“I think it will,” he said, because he was confident and Even was obvious and they were happy when they were with each other.

  
*

Even hadn't been at dinner. So after he was done eating, Isak walked to the room Even shared with the semi-catatonic young man who Isak had seen only ever seen once, and knocked on the door.

“Even?” he asked gently, pushing the door open a bit and glancing around. There was the lump that was Ben in the bed near the opposite wall, and when Isak stepped in further he saw Even laying in his own bed, asleep under layers of blankets with a tray of food half eaten beside him. Isak stepped in slowly, letting the door fall shut behind him, and rolled the tray out of the way so he could sit on the edge of Even's bed and brush fingers through his hair.

“Hi, baby,” Even breathed out slowly, eyes still closed. Isak smiled.

“Hi.” He slid his thumb down Even's cheek. “Did I wake you up?”

“Come lie down with me,” Even murmured instead, leaning into his touch, still half asleep without opening his eyes. “Nap with me.”

Isak smiled and crawled over him to lay on Even's left side, near the wall. He'd adopted the position after everything happened, the solidity of the wall impenetrable and safe. And with Even on his other side, he felt locked in and guarded.

He wrapped himself around Even's body, burying his nose in Even's hair, spooning him to his chest and breathing in his scent.

“Are you okay?” Isak asked softly, voice muffled by Even's neck.

“Just feeling a little down,” Even answered slowly.

“I'm sorry,” Isak said, rubbing a hand over Even's chest. “I wish you felt better.”

“Me, too,” Even said.

“Let's sleep,” Isak said, closing his eyes and nestling further into the sheets and the pillow and Even.

When he woke up, Even had eaten the rest of his food and was sitting up in the bed, a hand running through Isak's hair as his other one scrolled through his phone.

“Hi,” Isak said groggily, pushing himself up.

Even looked at him and smiled tiredly. “Hi.”

“What are you doing?” Isak asked, moving to rest against the wall next to him.

“They took my phone charger away,” Even said, “and replaced it with this tiny one that I can't... choke myself with.”

Which wasn't an answer, but it made Isak smile anyways. “You know, sometimes they don't even let new patients bring their phones with them,” Isak said, resting his head on Even's shoulder. “They hide it in the nurse's station with the rest of the stuff they took from people.”

“Why?” Even asked, their fingers locked together on top of his thigh, Even's cheek resting against the top of Isak's head.

“It's like, stressful, or something, I guess,” Isak answered, but he didn't really know, because they hadn't taken his. He _needed_ his, he needed it charged and on him at all times, right within reach, for the same reason he always knew the fastest way out, and took the seat nearest the door in every setting.

“Then how come you're allowed to have a laptop and do work?” Even asked, studying the one-foot charging cable that was lying on his lap, too short to be plugged into the nearest outlet and still give him access to his phone. “Aren't they afraid it'll stress you out?”

“Doctor Kinsey wants me back in a normal routine,” he said. “She knows passing my classes are important to me and stuff, and that I wouldn't do very well if I didn't. I don't know, my treatment is just kind of getting back to normal as quickly as possible. Because so much has changed lately, and stuff.”

The anniversary of the rape had just passed and the anniversary of the entrance to the hospital was coming up and at the same time as all of that, the three-month anniversary of his mother's death was Thursday of next week, and he didn't want to deal with it. So much had changed and nothing had really been fixed, yet, either.

But he was working on it. He was getting there.

“Do you wanna go somewhere?” Isak asked, sitting up from the wall and turning to look at him. “I know somewhere nice.”

“Are we allowed to go?” Even asked. “What time is it?”

“Only eight. We've got time, come on.”

It was dark when they got outside, into the fenced-in garden with fairy lights hanging from the tree branches. The days were getting longer but they weren't this long, yet. Isak sat them down in the swinging chair and held his hand.

“It's nice out here,” Even said, bundled up in the coats Isak had made him wear. “I didn't know we were allowed outside.”

Isak hummed, looking up at the stars, faint in the sky above them. “I like to come out. It's quiet but not... too quiet, like it is inside. There's still some noise, like, nature and stuff.” He moved Even's arm so it rested around his shoulders and leaned into his side. “It's been a month since I was raped,” he said quietly.

“It's been a month since my attempt,” Even answered as he wrapped his arm more securely around Isak's shoulders, and Isak held him tight around the waist.

“I'm glad we're still here,” Isak said, head resting easy on Even's shoulder.

“Me, too,” Even said.

“When was it?” Isak asked. “The day of it?”

“Sunday,” Even said. “Yesterday.”

“Mine was Saturday. At, like, two am, but still Saturday.”

“I'm glad I got to meet you,” Even said, curling his other arm around Isak's front in a sideways hug.

“Me, too,” Isak said quietly. He pulled from Even's grasp and looked up at him. He wanted to ask a lot of things. What if it never happened and what if they never met and what if they were both living normal lives right now, separately. He wanted to ask, if you got to go back, would you do it again, if you knew what would happen? He knew he wouldn't, not ever. If he had a choice to recreate his past, he'd do a lot of things differently.

But it wasn't a choice. It had happened, all of it. And since it had, since it'd always be a part of their past, at least they got one good thing out of it.

“Are you okay?” Even asked, rubbing his back.

“What are your plans?” Isak asked instead of answering, twining their fingers together and looking down at them. He rested his chin on Even's shoulder. “For when you get out? What are you gonna do?”

“I don't know yet,” Even said. “Eventually I'll get my own place. I'll repeat my last year of school, somewhere other than Bakka. And I'll graduate and get a job and try to find work in film somewhere. I don't know, I just want to be normal. Have a life like everyone else's.”

“That sounds nice,” Isak said, and Even smiled and turned his head to kiss Isak's nose. Isak scrunched it up and smiled. “You know what I want to do tonight?” he asked, leaning back so he could look Even in the eye.

Even stroked his thumb over the back of Isak's hand. “What?”

“Watch _Twin Peaks_ ,” Isak said, “and eat junk food that my dad brought me, and fall asleep with you.”

“You've gone soft,” Even noted with a fond smile, tugging Isak towards him.

“Shut up,” Isak responded in a mocking tone, letting himself be pulled closer so they were almost on top of each other.

“I like it,” Even said. “And I like it when you're all grumpy, too. I think I just like you.”

“Wow, you think?” Isak said. “You sounded so sure about it before.”

“Of course I'm sure,” Even said. “Surer than anything.”

“You're still the sappier one,” Isak said, legs crossed beneath him on the swinging bench as Even's heels dug into the earth to rock them gently. “And if you keep making fun I won't let you watch with me.”

“That's mean,” Even said. “And I'm not making fun. I just think you're sweet.”

“I'm not sweet.”

“I think you are.”

“I'm not!”

“Well no one else needs to know, just let me think so,” Even said, bringing their joined hands to his lips and kissing Isak's fingers.

“Fine,” Isak said. “For you.”

  
*

As much as he dreaded visitors, as much as he had to hype himself up for the short interactions, Isak never liked saying goodbye to his dad. Knowing that he was going back to that empty house and knowing that he was suffering and doing so alone made Isak want to cut his stay short and move back home as soon as he could. But every time he offered, his father told him no.

“You have to get better,” he said, hugging Isak at the exit. “You have to get better and come home and live your life. I'm not good enough to help you myself. I want to be able to, Isak, I do. But I can't. I can only... support you, and love you, and be there for you.”

“I don't like the thought of you alone in there,” Isak said, pulling back to look at him. They were almost the same height, now. It was sort of a jolt; they'd gone so long with hardly speaking or interacting at all—a quick goodbye as one went out the door, or a rundown of Marianne's moods as she was passed off from husband to son—that the differences shocked him now. His father had grown older and Isak hadn't noticed, it was like he was seeing him for the first time in years when they finally needed each other again.

“I'm gonna be fine, Isak,” his dad said with a smile, hands on Isak's shoulders. “I'm fine. All I care about is you right now. You're all that matters.”

Isak smiled.

“And when you get out, we'll rebuild,” he said. “We'll rebuild everything. It'll be okay.”

“I believe you,” Isak said.

“Good.” He hugged him one more time and kissed his cheek and pulled back. “I'll see you in a few days. Get some rest, eat well, I left you some food in your room.”

“Thanks,” Isak said.

“I love you,” his dad said, fixing Isak's hair, pushing it back from his forehead.

“I love you, too,” Isak said. He never used to mean it, really. It used to be just something he said back, on autopilot, because he always did. But it was different now. Everything was different now, and at least when he lost everything else, he didn't lose his father, too.

He went back into the common room to collect the book he'd left behind, and then wandered around the halls looking for Even before giving up and going to his room for a rest. Visitors drained him, everything drained him. He was diagnosed with depression before he was diagnosed with PTSD, and refusing to take medication for it certainly wasn't speeding up his recovery. But it was getting there, getting better. He had a support system and therapy and methods of calming himself. He was doing fine, he was just always tired.

He was reading for a while, eyes starting to drift closed, when a knock on his door woke him up, made him jump from the bed, breath coming quick. He didn't say anything, he couldn't move. And he hated his goddamn mind for a second, before he remembered that it wasn't his fault. It wasn't his fault.

The knock came again and Isak was still afraid to answer it.

“Isak? It's Even, are you in there?”

Isak let out a rushed breath and swung the door open, didn't give Even a chance to say anything before he was throwing his arms around Even's neck and burying his face into them. “Fuck,” Isak said. “Fuck, Even.”

“Baby what's wrong?” Even asked, bringing his arms around Isak's waist. “What's wrong?”

“You scared me,” Isak said softly. “That's all. You just scared me.”

“Sorry, Isak. I'm sorry.”

“Don't be sorry,” Isak said, pulling back from Even, cupping his jaw in his hand and stroking his thumb over Even's skin. “It's okay. I'm fine.”

“I hate that someone did this to you,” Even said, holding him around his waist.

“I don't want to talk about him,” Isak said.

“Okay,” Even said. “No heaviness. It's fine. You look tired.”

“Is that an insult?” Isak asked, linking his arms around Even's neck with the cast causing some difficulty.

“Just an observation. You look gorgeous either way.”

“Gorgeous, huh?” Isak asked, smiling as Even swayed them in a circle. “That's a big word.”

“You deserve big words.”

“Hm? Like what?”

“Like gorgeous,” Even said with a smile.

“Dork,” Isak said.

They stood in silence for a while, just looking at each other and smiling and getting closer, before Even asked quietly, “When are you leaving me?”

Isak looked up at him from where his gaze had been fixed on the floor. “I don't know,” he admitted softly.

“Even though it'll be a month?” Even asked.

“This is for long-term patient recovery,” Isak said. “There's no... limit. People are in here for longer than me. It's okay.”

“Will you want anything to do with me when we're out in the real world?” Even asked.

Isak smiled, touched his cheek. “Why wouldn't I?”

“I'll be messed up there like I'm messed up here.”

“Don't say that,” Isak said. “I'll still like you.”

Even grinned a little bit. “You like me?”

“Oh my _God,_ get out of here.”

  
*

Even was on the ground, but Isak didn't even see it happen. He didn't even know he'd done it. Because he wasn't there anymore, he wasn't in the hallway, he was on the ground outside the club, backed up against the wall with his arms covering his face, waiting for the blows, waiting for the break. He was a month younger, cornered and scared, sobbing. And then it was all white walls again, and people rushing towards him, and he was trying to curl even further in on himself, to get away from the onslaught, to hide and disappear.

But then he saw Even on the floor across from him, Even with drops of blood flowering anew on his bandages, scarlet spots, and Isak wanted to move towards him, but he was too scared. A nurse was kneeling next to Even and Isak had _hurt_ him, he had hurt Even who'd done nothing but treat him with the utmost care in the world, Even who was healing himself, who didn't need the pressure of Isak's problems but who took them on anyways.

“Isak?” someone asked, and Isak blinked up at Camila. “Hi, honey. Let's get you up.”

Isak shook his head, looking back across the wall at Even, who was wincing with his focus on the nurse as she pulled his bandage off slowly. “Even?” he asked softly, voice hoarse.

“He's alright,” Ann said, studying his arm and smiling up at Even. “You're alright. Just a few pulled stitches. I'll call the doctor and he'll fix you up right away.”

“He's fine, honey,” Camila said. Even met his eye and Isak looked away, tears welling up. He'd messed up, and he'd known it from the start that he would.

Even had snuck up behind him and said _sweetheart_ , and sweetheart was what the man in the alley called him. While he was chasing him, while he was hitting him, while he was raping him. “Sweetheart.” It had propelled Isak into a panic and he'd pushed Even and Even had fallen and torn his stitches and gotten hurt.

“Isak?” said a voice in front of him, and Isak focused his eyes and saw Even crouching at his feet. “Baby,” he said softly, and Isak wiped a lone tear from his eye and looked at him.

“I'm sorry,” he whispered.

“It's okay,” Even said, cupping his cheek in one big hand. He smiled at him. “It's okay.”

“I didn't mean to hurt you,” Isak said, touching Even's cheek with trembling fingertips. He drew them back to his chest. “I never want to hurt you.”

“It doesn't hurt,” Even said. “Nothing hurts. Everything's okay. Look at me.” He brought Isak's hand to his chest, where his heart was beating steady beneath his t-shirt. “I'm okay.”

“I'm sorry.”

“Never be sorry, baby,” Even said, drawing him cautiously into a hug. “Never apologize.”

Isak let himself hug him back, waited for his own heart to calm down. The nurses helped him up, and he felt absolutely fucking exhausted but he held Even's hand as the on-call doctor redid three of his stitches in the deepest horizontal cut of his right wrist. The nurses and the aids and the doctor all eyed the two of them but didn't say anything, they let the boys leave together without saying a word.

Isak couldn't speak. He was so tired. And Even seemed to understand, because he held Isak's hand in the bedroom doorway and asked, “Do you want me to leave?”

“I don't want you to stay if you don't want to stay,” Isak said quietly.

“I'll always stay. If you want me to stay.”

“I do,” Isak whispered, and Even smiled.

They laid down together and Isak put his head on Even's chest, carefully and tentatively, cuddling further in when Even curled an arm tight around him to show him that it was okay.

“I feel so bad lately,” Isak whispered. “I feel so bad.”

“I'm sorry, Isak,” Even said. “I wish there was something I could do.”

“It feels like I'm slipping backwards. Like everything's for nothing.”

“It feels like that sometimes. It doesn't mean it's true.” Even kissed his forehead. “You're doing so well, Isak. You're trying so hard. You could've let him win, and you didn't. You're not. Because you're so strong. The strongest person here.”

Isak turned his face into Even's chest and said, “I don't want to lose you.”

Even brushed Isak's hair from his face and kissed his cheek, pulling him closer. “You never will.”

  
*

Isak was feeling his worst since the rape happened. He didn't know if it was the knowledge of upcoming commemorations or if it was just the way healing went. Because it wasn't straightforward and it wasn't self-explanatory, it wasn't a straight line to follow, and backsliding happened. It wasn't any fault of his own, he was doing it right, and that just made it harder. He wished he had something to blame so he had something to fix, but he was just sad and tired and scared. He was tensed all the time and he flinched at every touch.

Even didn't leave him. They napped together and they ate together and they watched movies and finished the first season of _Twin Peaks_. Isak went to therapy and came back to wrap himself in Even's arms, and a month of treatment was done as they lay in varying positions on Isak's bed, Even sketching and Isak reading.

He was feeling better, a little bit. The rest of the day after he'd accidentally attacked Even had been spent without speaking or eating, but the day after he was able to talk it over with Doctor Kinsey and today he could smile and laugh again, but he was just too tired to stay up for very long. His dad had called to check on him when a nurse notified him of the stress, and Jonas and Eva had each texted him too many times like they always did so he left their messages unanswered, too overwhelmed by them.

This was easy, coexisting with Even without interacting, being in the same space and sharing air and switching between Spotify playlists as they did their own tasks. They'd known each other three weeks and Isak felt as comfortable around him as he would Jonas or Eva, even after everything. Isak was inherently wary of men, now, he was constantly afraid of people he wanted to trust. So it had to mean something that he wasn't scared of Even. It had to mean something that he trusted Even to hold his hand, to sleep in his bed, to have arms wrapped around him. Usually he was looking for every possible escape, but when Even was around he felt like he didn't have to. Like he'd be safe with him and he'd be safe with anyone else as long as Even was with them.

They'd been doing their respective tasks in silence for a while, the sound of Even's eclectic playlist lilting through the room. But when Isak heard something familiar, something he thought he recognized, something upbeat and high-pitched and overplayed, he sat up and looked at Even, bobbing his head to the beat with his focus on his drawing.

“Seriously, Even?” Isak demanded, and Even jumped, looking at him.

“Are you trying to kill me, Isak, holy shit. I thought you were asleep.”

“Why do you have Gabrielle on your Spotify playlist?”

Even looked down at his phone, then back up with clear amusement on his face. “What are you trying to say about Gabrielle?”

“This stupid song is like two years old,” Isak said. “No one wanted to listen to it when it first came out and no one _should_ want to listen to it now.”

“This is a great song!” Even protested, setting his sketchbook to the side after he pulled the cover closed. “Don't tell me you're too cool for this awesome song.”

“I'm too cool for this song and I'm starting to realize I'm too cool for you.”

“Don't say such cruel things,” Even said, standing up and rounding the bed and pulling at Isak's hands.

“When have I ever said anything else? I'm _not_ dancing with you, Even, not to this song in a room of a psychiatric ward, they'll make us stay forever.”

Even laughed and tugged at him, moving his hips and swaying his body, singing the words quietly. “Dance with me, beautiful.”

“A few days ago I was gorgeous.”

“You're always gorgeous and you always have been. Look, don't I look sexy, don't you want to get with this?”

“This is the absolute _least_ attractive you've ever been to me,” Isak said, watching Even hold his hands and move backwards. And he must have been really fucking whipped because he let himself be pulled from the bed on Even's third try.

“God, you are _such_ a dork,” Isak said, watching Even dance around in front of him.

“You love it, baby.” He drew Isak's arms around his own neck and put his arms around Isak's waist, swaying them back and forth to the music. He traced one hand over Isak's arm, fingertips catching on the rough plaster of the cast, and smiled at him, touching their foreheads together. “You make me feel better,” he said.

Isak looked up at him with a smile. “Are you ever gonna kiss me, Even?”

“Are _you_ ever gonna kiss _me_?” Even asked, nudging their noses together to make Isak's smile widen.

“I guess we're at an impasse, then,” Isak said. “Because I'm not gonna be the first to cave.”

“And I can't kiss someone who doesn't like Gabrielle,” Even said. “Not unless he kisses me first.”

“Good luck with that promise,” Isak said softly, inching closer so their bodies were pressed together.

“You're definitely not making it easy.”

“I don't want it to be easy. It's not worth it if it's easy.”

Even hugged him and Isak rested his head on Even's shoulder. “You're right about that,” Even said, kissing the top of his head. “But you're always worth it.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: symptoms of PTSD (including minor episode), vague mentions of past rape/non-con (no details shared), vague mentions of suicide
> 
> your comments mean the world and your kudos are so encouraging. thank you so much <3


	5. Even

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi ya'll :-) we've finally got a chapter count, so three chapters after this we'll end on an isak chapter and that'll be the end of this verse :)  
> i want to thank joelle for being my cheerleader (<3) and @kaamillama for reminding me of something that needed to happen in this chapter :)  
> warnings in the end notes!

*

“So,” Doctor Einar said, folding his hands in his lap and smiling around the little square they all made. “Shall we begin?”

Even glanced at his parents, one on either side of him, and sank farther into his seat, pulling his sleeves more completely over the bandages on his arms.

“We haven't had the pleasure of meeting yet,” Doctor Einar said, reaching out to shake first his mother's hand, then his father's. “I'm Doctor Einar Larsen, it's very nice to meet you. I've been in charge of your son's treatment for the past three weeks.”

Even really liked Doctor Einar. He was outgoing and friendly and let him work at his own pace, gave suggestions without leading his mind in one direction. But he was afraid his parents would hate him. Because Even's ascent from depression was long and slow, and there was nothing Doctor Einar could do to speed it up like his parents wanted. And Doctor Einar encouraged Even's plans for an independent life, while his parents dreaded them.

“So we've decided to do family therapy,” he said, flipping open his legal pad, “because a large part of Even's stress comes from what we believe to be family pressure.” Even heard his mother's sharp intake of breath and closed his eyes. “Now, this isn't to blame you, this isn't to say that you're bad parents, or anything like that. You're worried about your son like any parent would be, and that's okay. It's healthy.”

Even glanced up. His mom was paying rapt attention to the doctor and his dad was glancing around the room in discomfort. He knew they didn't want him in there, he knew they wanted him at home instead of a place for the mentally ill. But they didn't have to be so obvious in their disdain.

“What we're trying to do, though, is encourage Even to make his own plans about his future. Trust him to choose the right path and lend our support. We've talked extensively, we've had many sessions dedicated to his plans for his future, isn't that right, Even?”

Even managed a nod, eyes trained on the floor, slumped in the chair with his arms crossed.

“He has a support system in place within the ward,” Doctor Einar said. “He has a psychiatrist and a routine and a... good friend.” Even blushed. “What we need to do is make sure he has a support system outside, while still letting him lead an independent life.”

“He's only nineteen,” his mother said. “Does he really need an independent life?”

Even closed his eyes, tried to calm his frustration, and waited for Doctor Einar to speak. But he didn't, and when Even looked again, the man was smiling at him.

So he took a deep breath. He sat up straighter. He turned to his mother and said, “I need to be able to do this on my own time,” in a quiet voice. “I can't rely on everyone else to save me and watch after me. If you give me my pills every morning, then how will I remember to take them when the time comes? I know you'll always see me as someone you need to take care of, and I don't want that. I can't live like that.”

His parents stared at him. Doctor Einar's smile widened.

“Thank you, Even,” he said, leaning back in his chair, glancing at the parents. “He's doing very well. He'll be off suicide watch at the end of this week, and his prescriptions are working very well for the time being. He's been spending more and more time outside his room, he's been talking to his friends. I know for a fact that he can do this when he lives alone. But no one can do _everything_ alone, and that's why we need to create a system. We can help him find an apartment while he's in here, if he wants to try something like a halfway house, or he can look for roommates on his own time. But assisting is all we, as a support group, want to do. No running his life or telling him what to do or interrogating him about his medicine and his moods. Okay?”

He winked at Even in the silence that followed, and Even smiled back.

“Inpatient is really hard for some people,” Doctor Einar said when Even's parents hadn't spoken. “Many _many_ people leave before their treatment is finished, because it's too hard. So you should be proud of your son, for sticking it out. For staying with it. For talking about the hard subjects. He's doing great in here, and he'll do great out there.”

Later he had his head in Isak's lap as Isak read a Stephen King book, a huge multi-thousand page paperback that rested on the arm of the common room couch while Isak's fingers threaded through Even's hair. Even watched his concentrated face, the way his lips moved as he mouthed an English word he didn't know.

He hadn't thought it was possible to fall so fast.

“You're cute,” Even said, smiling up at him. Isak looked down and smiled, moving his hand from Even's hair to his cheek.

“You're cute, too.”

Even traced his fingers over Isak's lips and pinched his chin before letting his hands fall back down. “Cute enough to kiss?”

Isak shook his head, his grin widening. “Not yet.”

“Mm,” Even said. “Tease.”

Isak started brushing through his hair again, and put his bookmark into the pages of his book to be able to drop his other hand to Even's chest. “How was family therapy?” he asked. “You didn't talk about it. Was everything okay?”

Even shrugged, taking Isak's hand in his own and looking down at their linked fingers. “It was alright. My parents still don't understand. That I want to do this on my own, get better on my own.”

“Did they try to accept it, at least?” Isak asked, pushing the soft hair from Even's forehead.

“I think they need some time,” Even said. “But, I don't know, I think they'll get used to it. Hopefully.”

“That's good,” Isak said. He smiled down at him, and leaned forward to kiss his forehead, smoothing his hair back with his free hand. “They'll get used to it.”

“They don't want me living in an apartment with strangers,” Even said. “They want me to try a halfway house because then I'll be supervised, but Doctor Einar says since I don't need it I probably won't be accepted in.”

Isak hummed, twisting strands of Even's hair around his fingers. “You know my friend Eskild?” he asked. “The one who found me?”

“Yeah,” Even said. “I thought he was your boyfriend. I was very jealous.”

“He's like five years older than me.”

“I'm three years older than you.”

“You're not my boyfriend, either.”

“Ouch,” Even said, smiling up at him. “Maybe I should make Eskild my boyfriend, then.”

“You better not,” Isak said, laughing as he tightened his hold on Even's hand. “You're mine, not his.”

Even brought their joined hands to his lips and kissed Isak's, smiling into it. “What'd you want to tell me? About Eskild?”

“Well,” Isak said, fingers in Even's hair. “He lives with a friend of Eva's. In a shared apartment. And Noora might be moving to London with some... boy she met two seconds ago. So Eskild might have a free room in a few weeks. Maybe you can... talk to him. Live with him.”

“Really?” Even asked, holding Isak's hand tightly between both of his own.

“Not if he's going to steal you away from me,” Isak said. “But if you promise not to forget about me, yeah.”

“I could never forget about you,” Even said. “You're the most beautiful boy in the world. And you're the strongest and the smartest. And my favorite.”

“You lay it on thick,” Isak said, smiling at him.

“I've got to bring out the charm so you'll kiss me first.”

“I'm pretty competitive,” Isak said. “I never lose.”

“I can be competitive, too,” Even said.

“Then I guess we'll see who can hold out the longest,” Isak said.

“I guess we will,” Even answered with a smile.

  
*

“Can I see?” Isak asked, gently, and when Even looked down at him Isak's chin was on his shoulder and he was looking up with big eyes.

“How'd you know?” Even asked. The blankets were pooled at their feet and the laptop sat between them.

“You haven't stopped touching them,” Isak said, watching as he ran his hand down Even's arm and trailed his fingers feather-light against his wrist, where Even's own fingers had been worrying the fabric of his long-sleeved shirt and the skin hidden underneath.

“It feels weird,” Even said. “No bandages. Nothing between them and the world.”

“It means you're healing,” Isak told him, dropping his hand from the shirtsleeve to Even's thigh. “It means you're getting better.”

Even closed his eyes, felt Isak's hand on his leg, Isak's head on his shoulder, Isak's side pressed against Even's. He heard an indie movie soundtrack playing, knew that if he opened his eyes those would all be there. But so would the scars, the ugly wounds, the reminders. “Everyone can see,” he said. “Everyone will know.”

“We're safe,” Isak said. “We're safe in here. There's nothing to hide.”

“They're horrible,” Even said. And they _were_ horrible, they were horrible reminders of what he'd done wrong, of the mistakes he'd made, of the worst moment of his entire life. He opened his eyes, looked at Isak. Isak pulled his head from Even's shoulder so that he could look back.

“Nothing about you could ever be horrible,” Isak said. He brought a hand to Even's hair and stroked, and Even closed his eyes, because it felt good. It felt so good, so comfortable, so safe. “Just because they're a reminder doesn't mean they have to remind you of something bad.” Isak pressed a kiss to his shoulder. “They don't have to remind you of the attempt, or the episode. They can remind you of overcoming, or getting better.” He stroked down Even's arm again, up and down, up and down. “They can remind you of me.”

“Nothing so ugly could remind me of you,” Even said.

“They're not ugly,” Isak said softly. “They can't be ugly. No part of you could be ugly.”

Even tugged up his sleeve and revealed the scars, red and tender and swollen. With the stitches gone they looked better. Without the bandages they looked a hundred times worse.

“Baby,” Isak breathed, and Even was so sure that he was going to tell him he was sorry, that this _was_ horrible, that Even had been right the first time. So sure.

But he didn't. He brought the wrist to his lips and he kissed it, he kissed it so tenderly, so carefully, and he said, “You are _not_ ugly. Not a single part of you.”

“You're too good for me,” Even said.

“I'm not,” Isak said, running his thumb over the ridges of skin with a touch so light and careful it was barely there at all. “Never say that. Because if I said it you'd tell me not to. And you can't even hold me sometimes, you can't call me sweetheart. We're not too good for each other. Okay? We're not.”

“But are we good _for_ each other?” Even asked.

Isak cupped his face with one hand. “ _Yes_ , Even. You make me want to get better. You encourage me every day. Yes, you're good for me. You're perfect.”

Even pulled him into a hug, because he had to. Because he couldn't not. Because he was falling in love and it hadn't even been a month. “You're perfect, too.”

  
*

Talking to Yousef and Elias was always a treat. The second time they visited, Yousef delivered news of their friends and Elias delivered news of Yousef.

“He fell down in front of Sana yesterday,” Elias said. “We were fucking around on one of Adam's old skateboards and it was Yousef's turn, and he was doing fine until he saw Sana, then _bam—_ he was on the ground. It was hilarious. His face was so red.”

“This is _not_ why we came here,” Yousef said, pulling his hood further over his hair so it fell in his eyes.

“It doesn't matter, he's not even listening,” Elias said.

Even looked back at them, glancing once more over Yousef's shoulder at Isak on the couch before settling his eyes on the boys in front of him. “What? I'm listening. Sorry, I'm listening. Yousef fell on his ass because of Sana, I heard that.”

“What are you looking at, man?” Elias asked, turning to look at the couch, where Isak had gone back to his book, headphones in and phone playing Spotify.

Elias turned back with a smile on his face. “Dude.”

“Don't say anything,” Even said.

“Are you _into_ him?” Elias said anyways.

“Yes, I am,” Even said. “Very much. So chill out.”

He didn't even finish the sentence before Elias was out of his chair and walking over to Isak, who looked up at his approach and sat up further, taking his earbuds out.

Even scrambled to stand next to Elias, smiling apologetically at Isak, who looked between them and then offered a wan smile. “Hi,” he said.

Even moved Elias back so that they weren't boxing Isak into a corner—Isak hated feeling trapped, Even knew that—and then said, “Isak, this is Elias, a friend from school. That's Yousef over there.” Sitting calmly instead of rushing the boy Even liked, like a good friend. “And guys, this is Isak.”

“Hi, Isak,” Elias said with a winning smile and an outstretched hand. “Very nice to meet you.”

“Hi,” Isak answered uncertainly, shaking his hand and standing up. “Hi, Yousef,” he said, peering around Elias and waving a little bit.

“Hi, Isak,” Yousef said. “Sorry about all this.”

Isak smiled. “It's okay. But I think I'll leave, so Even isn't so distracted.” He took a step towards Even, put a hand on his chest, and said, “I'll see you later, okay?”

“Sorry,” Even whispered to him as he passed.

Isak just smiled at him and whispered, “It's okay,” as he passed, squeezing his bicep and going to the door. “Nice meeting you two. Have a good visit.”

“Thanks, Isak!” Elias said.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Even demanded when Isak was safely out of sight.

“He's adorable,” Elias said, turning excitedly to Even.

“I know that!” Even said, and then softened immediately as he thought about just _how_ adorable Isak was. “I know he's adorable, fuck, I know.”

“Is he into you?” Elias asked, sitting back down. Even took the seat across from them and buried his face in his hands before looking at the boys again and their dumb smirks.

“Yes,” Even said. “He is.”

“He seems cool,” Yousef said. “He was reading, that's dope.”

“Reading is _not_ dope,” Elias said. “He's dope because he likes Even when no one should.”

“Dick,” Even muttered. “Reading's fucking awesome when it's Isak doing it. He's a fucking genius.”

“You are so gone, dude,” Elias said.

“But I don't want to scare him off. I don't want _you_ to scare him off, more specifically, because he's been through a lot and I will wait for him forever. So don't pull that shit again.”

“God, you're whipped,” Elias said.

“I'm happy for you,” Yousef said with a calm smile. Yousef was a constantly calming presence, he never did anything surprising or upsetting, and Even appreciated him more than he appreciated most people. “He seems like a good guy.”

“He is,” Even said. “He's really, really good.” His phone buzzed on the table and he reached for it, saw Mikael's name on the screen and set it back down. The boys noticed but didn't say anything, just let their eyes wander over his fallen face and tried to cheer him before they had to go.

Even hugged them and waited impatiently for them to walk out the door so he could find Isak. Because he was feeling anxious and jumpy and Isak could calm him down. Hearing from Mikael always made him feel like this. Out of control of his own body, his own mind, and he didn't like it.

“Hey,” Isak said with a smile, finding him in the hallway on his way somewhere else. He was so cute, dressed in pajama pants and a t-shirt with his hair still disheveled from the nap they'd taken earlier. “I was gonna head outside, do you want to come?”

“Yeah,” Even said. His hands were shaking and Isak noticed, glancing down before looking back up with furrowed brows.

“Are you okay?” Isak asked.

“I'll feel better when I have some time with you,” Even said, putting his hands on Isak's waist and drawing him closer. Isak put his hands on Even's shoulders and stroked his cheek with one thumb.

“Okay,” he said. “Okay, let's grab our coats.”

When they were outside on the swinging bench, dusk falling around them and the hanging lights in the garden trees just turning on, Even felt better. Until he pulled his phone out while Isak was distracted with his book and opened Mikael's messages.

_I heard Elias and Yousef are seeing you today. I hope you guys have a good time._

_I'm going to apologize again. I know you probably don't care. And I don't need you to forgive me. I just need you to know I'm sorry. So sorry._

_I still care about you so much. I never should've said those things, I didn't mean anything._

_Anyways, I hope you're doing well and getting better._

_If you feel up to it, give me a call sometime._

The number of messages per day had dwindled considerably; instead of a message every hour of every day it was a few messages every few days. It was still jarring and he still wasn't ready for it, and he didn't know what there was to do when he _was_ ready.

“You look sad,” Isak said, setting his book in his lap and looking up at him. “What's wrong? Did something happen with your friends?”

“No,” Even said. “No, it wasn't them. As embarrassing as they were.”

Isak smiled. “They were sweet.”

“They've been my friends for a long time, they just... recently found out that I'm into guys, so.... They're a little excited, I guess, at least Elias is. He really wants to be supportive, I think.”

“Well that's good,” Isak said, linking his arm through Even's and pressing close against his side. “It's always good to have support.”

Even kissed the top of his head, and then rested his cheek there, against the soft blonde hair, feeling the heat radiate from his body. “I think it's a lot because... because of what happened, to get me in here. That kind of triggered the attempt.”

One thing that Even hadn't expected therapy to do was make him a better listener. Make him better at staying silent, at asking the important questions, at waiting for Isak to speak before rushing him to finish. And Isak extended him the same courtesy, staying patiently silent at his side, head on Even's shoulder, waiting for him to speak if he wanted to speak.

“One of my other friends, a really close one like them. Um. We had a lot in common, the most out of all of them,” he said, twisting his fingers together and then letting Isak wedge his hand between them so he was squeezing it instead. “We were in film classes together and we worked on stuff outside of class and we just, I don't know, hung out, and stuff. And I guess somewhere down the line I was really confused, with my... with my sexuality, and stuff, and I was having problems with my girlfriend like we had been for a year. And, I dunno, I was just starting to realize that maybe I wasn't completely straight so I got really drunk and I didn't know it at the time but it was the beginning of a really severe manic episode. And I tried to... to kiss him.” Isak tightened his grip and Even was grateful that the position they were in didn't allow them to see each other because he was so scared of the look on Isak's face right now. “And he was drunk, too, so he pushed me off. And he's been having problems with his religious identity lately, and I knew that at the time but it didn't make it hurt any less when he... he told me I was going to hell. That I was wrong, to want that.” He heard Isak let out a sigh and held onto his hand with both of his, to ground him, to ground them both. “And the thing was I _didn't_ want that. Not with him, I just... wanted to know what it was like. If it was different. And Mikael didn't mean any of what he'd said but I still... ignored all his messages, and took everything he said to heart, and I read the Qur'an in English and then in Arabic, I didn't sleep at all, and I posted all this... this shit, stupid shit on Facebook. About a faith that isn't mine, things that the Muslims I know don't even believe. That homosexuality is bad, and stuff, that I'm going to hell for it.”

There was a sudden silence that stretched an eternity, and when it became clear that Even wasn't going to say anything else, _couldn't_ say anything else, Isak spoke.

“And then it happened?” he asked. “You crashed, you cut your arms?”

Even closed his eyes, tried not to cry.

“Baby,” Isak said, pulling back and wrapping his arms around Even's neck. “I'm sorry.”

“He keeps apologizing,” Even said, holding him tight, so tight. “I don't know what to do. I don't know how to feel.”

“Only you can feel what you feel,” Isak said. “Don't let anyone else try to tell you. You're not ready to forgive him, that's okay. You don't have to. Not now, not ever.” He pulled back and held Even's face between cold hands. “No one should ever expect things of you. You can feel however you want, you can act however you want. It's your life. You can let the people you want in.”

  
*

Waking up with Isak was something he'd never grow tired of. His sleep-warmed skin, his long lashes on his cheekbones. How close he was, breath soft against Even's shoulder. He was gorgeous and he was Even's and the thought electrified him.

Since they stayed up half the night they'd taken to sleeping for hours past daybreak; long past breakfast, entering lunchtime. They didn't get early mornings together, but they got late nights.

Isak always woke up so slowly. Moving around a bit before opening his eyes, spending some time in half-consciousness while he could. He always smiled when he saw Even, though. Without fail, he smiled. Every day.

This morning he opened his eyes as Even traced his finger over the ridge of his eyebrow, smiling like he always did and croaking a hoarse, “Good morning.”

“Hi,” Even said, smiling back.

Isak hummed, moving closer so Even would sling his arm across his waist. “How'd you sleep?”

“I always sleep good when I'm next to you,” Even answered.

Isak stroked through his hair a few times, scratching gently at his scalp. “You don't call me baby anymore,” he said.

Even rubbed his back. “I'm afraid to.”

“Because of what happened?” Isak asked quietly, resting his hand flat on the side of Even's neck.

Even nodded. “I don't ever want to hurt you.”

“I didn't know that it'd trigger anything,” Isak said. “A lot of that night is... is stuff I don't remember. It wasn't your fault, okay?”

Even tugged him closer by the waist. “Seeing you so scared of me broke my heart.”

“It's not like that,” Isak said. “It's not _you_ I'm scared of, it's... it's like I'm back in the time and place it happened. You already know what not to do. I've told you everything I know: no sudden touches, no loud noises, no... you know, touching me in certain places.” He smirked a little bit. “Yet.”

Even smiled and kissed his forehead.

“But... but I don't know, this might happen again,” Isak said, holding onto the collar of Even's t-shirt. “Because there are a lot of things I don't remember and something that happens can trigger it. So don't feel bad. I like it when you call me baby. I don't want what happened to take that away.”

Even ran his hand up Isak's side and twisted his fingers in Isak's hair. “Okay. Baby.”

Isak smiled and touched Even's lips. “Okay, baby.”

  
*

“You have too many books,” Even said, taking off his hoodie as he peered at the stack of paperbacks in the corner. “Way too many.”

“You can't have too many books,” Isak said. “You _can_ have too many movies in your Netflix queue.”

Even turned around with a scoff, reaching down to take off his socks. “No you can't! I can watch movies a lot faster than you can read books.” He looked up at Isak, who wasn't saying anything, just looking at him with a half smile. “What? Is there a bug near me?”

“You've been wearing my shirt all day, haven't you?” Isak asked.

Even looked down at the t-shirt that'd been hiding beneath his hoodie and flushed pink. “No,” he said.

“No you haven't been wearing it?” Isak asked, stepping closer. “Or no it's not my shirt?”

“Both,” Even said.

Isak grinned, taking hold of the hem of the shirt in both hands. “That's weird,” he said, sliding his palms up the front of the shirt, the muscles underneath constricting at the touch. Even closed his eyes because Isak's hands felt so much better on him than anyone else's ever had.

“I'm a pretty weird guy, I guess,” Even said.

“No argument here,” Isak said, and when Even opened his eyes Isak was right there, right in front of him. Fuck, it'd take all the willpower in the world not to kiss him. Was pride really so important at this point? More important than kissing Isak?

“I like it,” Isak said. “I like seeing you wear it.”

“Makes me yours,” Even said, letting his arms fall around Isak's waist, Isak's hands on his chest.

“You were already mine,” he said with a smile.

“You're completely right.”

“Doesn't mean I'm gonna let this go. They do laundry twice a week here, Even, I know you haven't run out of clothes. Which means _you_ made the conscious decision to pick up one of _my_ shirts and wear it. I want to delve into that decision.”

“You're not a therapist.”

“I've been around one enough.”

“That's true. Go ahead.”

Isak smiled, reached up to hold Even's face in his hands. “It means you like me.”

Even scoffed. “That's no secret, baby.”

“Is this who we're gonna be now?” Isak asked. He put his head on Even's shoulder. “Sappy and gross?”

“Forever, hopefully,” Even said, kissing the top of his head. “I'm gonna turn you into the sappiest boy in the world.”

“Sappier than you?”

Even pulled back, affronted. “No one's sappier than me, gorgeous.”

“You're right,” Isak said. “That's an impossible standard.” He let Even kiss his forehead and closed his eyes, humming. “I wish we had pot.”

Even almost moaned out loud at the idea. “Fuck. Pot would be great.”

“Pot and potato chips and ice cream,” Isak said. “And some shit movie.”

“That sounds like the best night in the world,” Even said.

“Then it's a date,” Isak said. “Once we get out. You're not allowed to turn me down. A date with weed and potato chips and ice cream and the _X-Files._ ”

“ _X-Files_ is _not_ shit,” Even said, pulling back from him again.

“ _X-Files_ is what you watch when you're high,” Isak said. “And it's kind of shit. That doesn't mean it's not entertaining and awesome. It's just not winning any awards any time soon.”

“It ended like twenty years ago.”

“Are you telling me you don't want to go on a date with me?” Isak asked, fingers fiddling with the collar of Even's t-shirt. His t-shirt. “Is this you letting me down easy?”

“Never,” Even said. “Of course I'll go on a date with you. I'll go on a thousand dates with you.”

Isak _wanted_ him. Wanted him despite everything he knew, everything that Even had done. Isak knew everything, Isak knew more than anyone else, and Isak still wanted him.

And, holy shit, that meant more than anything ever could. To be wanted by the most beautiful boy with the most wonderful spirit, a boy who would cuff him over the head if he heard Even say any of this sappy shit out loud and then who'd smile and kiss his cheek anyways.

Even _was_ in love with Sonja, he still loved her now. But it was in the most familial way, the way he loved his mother and his father and Elias and Yousef. Nothing had ever felt like this before, nothing had ever felt like _Isak_ did.

He told himself it was too early to call anything love, because he always got ahead of himself. He loved the idea of being in love. And he wouldn't mess this up with all his notions and his hopes and his over-romantic mind.

He would hold Isak and kiss his forehead and stroke his hair, fall asleep in his bed with Isak's arms around him. He would tease him and laugh at him and call him sweet names. He'd let this progress as it wanted it to, as it would, and neither would he sabotage in self-protection or concoct ideas in his head because he _wanted_ it to be true.

He would love Isak Valtersen when it was time. And they had plenty of time.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: mentions of past suicide attempt, scars from past suicide attempt, discussion of triggers
> 
> your comments are much appreciated, they make me so happy and they motivate me to write faster :) kudos are so encouraging too <3 thank you so much loves
> 
> my tumblr is @supermansplaining if you want to chat :)


	6. Isak

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi loves! nearing the end and i don't have much to say except thank you for reading, and thanks for your comments and kudos! my tumblr is @supermansplaining and i'll be getting the last few chapters out in the next couple of days :)

*

“You look happy,” Ellen noted. “Well-rested. Why's that? What's changed?”

“Ellen,” Isak sighed, and she looked at him in that tired way she sometimes did. “I'm gonna be straight with you.”

“Wonderful,” she muttered.

“I'm sleeping well because I'm sharing my bed. With Even. Which is against the rules but doctor-patient confidentiality says that you're not allowed to narc on me.”

“That's not how doctor-patient confidentiality works,” Ellen said, “because technically I have the same authority as all the nurses and aids to tell you _not_ to sleep with other patients.”

Isak crossed his arms over his chest and pouted as he sank into the couch.

“I'm not gonna narc, Isak,” she said, and he brightened, straightening up. “And I'm not gonna tell you that you can't share your bed with him. Remember, you do this how you think you need to. I'm glad you're getting close to someone else and I'm glad you trust him and feel comfortable enough with him to share a bed with him. I'm glad he makes you feel safe, because that's a problem that victims sometimes face. Being close to another man, letting them in when you're vulnerable.”

“I do feel safe with him,” Isak said. “But still I sometimes, like, forget that he'd never hurt me when he touches me. I have to force myself to relax and remember. But I always remember eventually.”

“That will get easier in time,” she said. “Are you going to continue to see him when you're both released?”

“I think so,” Isak said. “But I'm a little afraid it won't be the same. Like, we're in this bubble, now, it's just the two of us. There's no one else to worry about—nothing else to worry about except ourselves. I'm afraid of what'll happen when we leave and have to go back to school and he gets a job and we both have to answer to our parents again. When we have more to worry about than each other.”

“That's understandable,” Ellen said, crossing her legs, one dangerous high heel bouncing over her knee. “But that's why the time in here, when it's just the two of you, is so important. Because maybe it wouldn't last, if you met, had a little fling, and then had to go back out to the real world. But you've had a month together. You've gotten to know each other. You've built the trust that's hard for you to build, and that will help you when you're out there. I'm not saying it'll be easy, but you won't be so codependent that you can't bear to be apart. You'll both be busy rebuilding your lives, getting back to normal. In a few weeks, neither of you will have school for an entire summer, and that can be your reintroduction to your lives, a dip in the water before cannonballing.”

“I really want it to work,” Isak said.

“I have no doubts that it will,” Ellen answered with a smile. “But you know what's even more important than it lasting?”

“What?”

“You'll be okay if it doesn't.”

Isak smiled. “You think?”

“You are so strong,” Ellen said. “One of the strongest kids I've ever met. And you won't be crushed if this doesn't end up working. You won't be broken.” She leaned back in her chair and looked down at her notes, scrawled in indecipherable handwriting on her yellow legal pad. “Let's go back to your sleeping patterns.”

“I'd rather not,” Isak said.

“Why's that?”

“Because I feel like you're gonna tell me I need to go a few nights without sleeping with Even so that I know that I can still sleep on my own.”

“Wow, you're like a mind-reader.” She smiled. “How do you feel about that? Going some nights without Even so that you can make sure that once you're back in your home, back in your bed, which will mostly be a place without Even, you can get the sleep you need.”

“My dad feels pretty guilty,” Isak said. “I think he'll let Even come over.”

“I don't want you depending on someone else to sleep, Isak,” Ellen said.

“I know, I know,” he said, falling back into the couch cushions. “I just don't want to. You know, listen to you, or do anything you're saying.”

“Relationships based on codependency aren't healthy ones,” Ellen said. “You shouldn't _need_ Even to be able to carry out any function of your life.”

“I _know_ , Doctor Kinsey,” he said. “I don't _need_ him to sleep, I just _want_ him. Like a teddy bear.”

“Just try,” Ellen said with a smile. “One night.”

“Just one?” Isak asked.

“Just one,” Ellen said. “And we'll see how it goes.”

“You're mean.”

“That's what they say.” She checked her legal pad and leaned back in her chair. “How's your schoolwork coming?”

“Really good,” Isak said. “I think I'll be ready to take finals.”

“You've gotten permission to have your exams pushed back if they need to be?”

“Yeah, it's fine,” Isak said. “I just want to be done with the year. So that I can start over next year.”

“Are you going to stay at Nissen?” Ellen asked. “I know you were struggling with that decision.”

“No one, like, knows what happened,” Isak said. “Only Jonas and Eva, so, I don't know. I think I'll stay, just because I don't want to have to... build all these new friendships when it'll already be hard enough to get back into a normal life.”

“I think that's very mature of you.”

“I'm a pretty mature guy.”

“Moving on.”

“You say that like you don't believe me.”

“Moving _on_ ,” she repeated. “Have you considered what we talked about as far as drinking was concerned?”

“Like the... not drinking suggestion?” Isak asked, and she nodded. “I'm gonna level with you, Ellen.”

“Please do,” she said with an eye roll.

“As your favorite patient, I owe it to you to tell you the truth, right?” She raised her eyebrows and he continued. “Drinking is not something... easy to avoid for me. I mean, it's been fine while I've been here, there's only been a few nights where I feel like I'll die without a drink, but when I'm back out there....”

“You just need the willpower to stay away,” she said. “And this isn't to tell you that never drinking is the only option, or that you're not allowed to drink. You don't even have to cut back, it has to be your choice, so I don't want to tell you what to do. Healing has to be for yourself, and if you stop drinking, it has to be for yourself, not because I told you to. But you have the willpower to recover from trauma, this terrible thing that happened. You had the willpower to keep going after your mom's death. If you chose to make this decision, you would have the willpower to carry it out. But you'd have to choose to make the decision.”

The weeks following his mother's death had been a blur of drinking too much and blacking out and doing things he couldn't remember, so he understood where she was coming from. It was a dangerous way of coping, it was a self-medication for a mental illness that he wouldn't accept that he had. The depression didn't go away with the alcohol, just paused for a while. But it was enough.

“But what if I'm not trying to forget anymore?” he asked. “If I get well enough so that I'm able to just... drink and have fun and not do it because I hate my life?”

“I think that'd be an excellent stage to get to,” Ellen said. “But the unfortunate truth is that healing doesn't work like that. It's not that quick. Alcohol is a drug that alters your mind. A depressive one, at that. I'm afraid that it might be a long time before you're able to drink only a few beers, without quickly turning that into excess and then a blackout. I wish it wasn't that way, and I'm not telling you that you _must_ stop, remember, I'm not going to tell you what to do or how to run your life. This is all up to you, because you'll have to make your own decisions once you're out of here. So you don't have to decide now. Not any time soon. It's just something to think about.”

Isak nodded, dropping his head back against the couch cushions.

“But, look, here's good news,” she said, waving his chart in his face to bring his attention from his own mind and back to her, and then drawing it back into her lap. “You'll be discharged very, very soon. And you'll be able to take your exams and then you'll have an entire summer to reintegrate yourself into society, and then you'll be able to get back to routine. Isn't that great?”

“When?” Isak asked, smile spreading. “When do I get discharged?”

“We'll see how it goes in the next few appointments,” she said, glancing at her notepad. “How your next physical exam goes—which, you're getting your cast off on Thursday! Congratulations.”

“And then... if it's all clear... I get to go home?”

“You get to go home,” she said with a firm nod and her lips upturned.

“Really?” he asked, hesitant to smile until he knew it was true.

“Really,” she said, and he broke out into a grin. “And your session is over, too, so a little more good news for the both of us.”

“You love me,” he said, standing up and grabbing his sweatshirt from the back of the couch. He winked at her. “When I'm out of here we should grab a drink.”

“Isak.”

“What? I'm allowed to call you Ellen, now, aren't I? This is the next step in our friendship. As your favorite patient—”

“Oh my God, get out, I'll see you on Wednesday.”

“I love you, Ellen,” Isak said.

“Good _bye_ , Isak.”

“Yeah,” Isak said, making his way out the door. “You love me, too.”

“Out!”

  
*

“Isak!” Eva squealed, giving him a hug and almost strangling him with the jacket she had in her arms. “So good to see you again! Where's that hot guy you were staring at the last time we came?”

“His name is Even,” Isak said, giving Jonas a hug, “and he's none of your business.”

“He's cute,” Eva said. “I want him.”

“Well you can't have him,” Isak said.

“Possessive,” Jonas said, following him down the hall to the common room. “So it's going well?”

“He won't kiss me,” Isak said, slumping into a chair around the table.

“What?” Jonas asked, pulling the chair out next to him. “Why not? I thought you said you were totally into each other.”

“Okay, wait,” Eva said, sitting down and holding up both hands. “You told _Jonas_ about this? The least romantic person in the _universe_?”

“Rude,” Jonas said. “I'm hella romantic.”

“He skipped dinner with my mom to smoke weed with Ingrid's brother,” Eva said. “He wouldn't go to parties with me even though I wore these great ass outfits—”

“Nope,” Isak said, covering his ears. “Don't want to hear about your ass, Eva.”

“My _point_ ,” she said, “is that if you want romantic advice, you ask _me_.”

“You cheated on me with Penetrator Chris!” Jonas said. “I wouldn't say you're a master of romance either!”

“I don't need help from either of you, actually,” Isak said, interrupting what was sure to become a loud and harmless argument, not about their broken relationship but about who was more poised to give relationship advice, which... neither of them, Jonas cheated on his girlfriend for Eva and Eva cheated on Jonas with Chris, so he wasn't about to take their tips into account. “I'm doing just fine without anyone's advice.”

“But he won't kiss you,” Jonas said.

“That's because I made a stupid... bet with him. About who would cave first.”

“Is there money on the line?” Eva asked.

“No, just dignity, I guess. And I feel like Even's the kind of person who would definitely, like, hold it over my head if I caved first. For the rest of all the time I know him.”

“Yeah, and you're not the kind of person who would gloat?” Eva asked with a scoff. “Why'd you make that dumb fucking bet, then, you have no one to blame but yourself.”

“I can blame him,” Isak said. “For not losing it yet.”

“You could blame yourself for not losing it yet,” Jonas said.

“Fuck you guys, you're supposed to be on my side.”

“Your side means you're not getting kissed,” Eva said, which, okay, was _true_ , but he had a feeling she didn't really understand the gravity of the situation.

“This doesn't involve you,” Isak said. “I have it under control. It's going great.”

“It's going great?” Eva asked. “But you haven't--”

“I know I haven't kissed him! Stop bringing it up!”

“It's a sore spot,” Eva noted with a solemn nod.

“I don't like you,” Isak said.

“Ignore her,” Jonas said. “How's everything?”

“Good,” Isak said. He smiled. “I'm getting out soon. And I feel so good, so much better. It's really going well.”

“That's awesome!” Jonas said. “I'm happy for you. Are you still planning on staying with your dad when you get out? Cause my house is always open.”

“No, I need to be with Dad,” he said. “I don't think I should just keep couch hopping.”

“No, I know,” Jonas said. “Just if you ever need a place.”

“Yeah, I know,” Isak said. “Thanks. I bet Thea misses me.”

“I think she's enjoying having the number of people that our house is built for, actually,” Jonas said. “Instead of her brother's weird friend constantly there.”

“Mean,” Isak said. “I'm the most normal one out of all of us. Eva kissed Penetrator Chris and you dated _Ingrid_.”

They both made offended noises and Isak smiled. “And I've got my shit together. And a hot boy who likes me.”

“I've got a hot boy who likes me,” Eva said. “I just don't like him back. And he's a complete dick.”

“Hey, is Noora still into William?” Isak asked. “Is she still planning to move with him?”

“After finals,” Eva said, rolling her eyes.

“Is she still living in that shared apartment?”

“For now,” Eva said. “Why? You interested?”

“Even needs a place to stay after he gets out,” Isak said. “And I trust Eskild, I think he'd watch out for him.”

“I think that'd be a good idea,” Eva said. “Eskild will need someone to look after when Noora's gone.”

  
*

Even was laying in bed when Isak found him, but he wasn't asleep. His breathing was too fast and he never slept on his side unless Isak was pressed against him. Which meant he was feeling down and Isak hated it when Even felt down.

“Hi, baby,” Isak said from the doorway. Ben was his familiar sheeted lump in the opposite bed, and Isak took a few steps into the room unnoticed by either of them. “Even? Can I come in?”

Even glanced over his shoulder when he heard and managed a small smile. “Yeah, always.”

Isak sat down on the edge of the mattress and Even wrapped his arms around his waist, resting his head on Isak's thigh. Isak smiled and brushed his fingers through Even's hair. “How are you feeling?”

“Depressed,” Even mumbled into his jeans.

“I'm sorry, baby.”

“Not your fault. Just sucks.”

Isak smoothed Even's hair back and leaned down to kiss his forehead. “I know. I wish it didn't.” He pressed his palm to Even's cheek, watched his eyes close. “Can I lay down with you?”

“Yeah,” Even said. “Come spoon me.”

“I can do that,” Isak said with a smile, crawling over Even's body to lay behind him, curling an arm around his middle and kissing him between his shoulder blades.

“Can you put music on?” Even asked into the blankets surrounding them.

“Yeah, sure,” he said, taking his phone from his pocket and navigating Spotify opened. “What do you want to listen to?”

“Just something chill.”

Isak held the phone in front of both of them and rested his chin on Even's shoulder to look across him as they scrolled through his music. “Frank Ocean?” he suggested, thumb hovering over the album cover.

“Okay,” Even said.

Isak kissed his cheek and chose the first song in the album, resting it on the pillow next to Even's head and curling around him again. “Did anything happen today?” Isak asked. “Or is it just... one of those days?”

“Just one of them,” Even said. “Every time I think I'm better.”

“I know, babe. It sucks, I know it does.”

“Tell me something nice,” Even said, pulling Isak's arm tighter across his waist and up his chest.

Isak hummed as he thought. “There's chocolate cake in the cafeteria for dinner tonight,” he said, tucking his face into the crook of Even's neck. “My psychiatrist approves of us sleeping in the same bed.”

“That makes it sexy,” Even said, and Isak smiled.

“I'm getting out soon,” he said quietly, because he didn't know how it'd be received, and he hadn't been able to gather the courage to tell him before.

Even turned around in his arms, a smile playing on his lips. “Really?” When Isak nodded, Even smiled wider and hugged him. “Baby. That's great.”

“Yeah?” Isak asked, brushing his hands through his hair. “Really?”

“Of course it is,” Even said. “I'll miss you but I'm happy for you.” He moved so that Isak was lying on his back and Even was resting his cheek on his shoulder, an arm around his waist and one of Isak's wound around his shoulders, playing with his hair. “I'm proud of you. Don't forget about me, though.”

“I could never forget about you,” Isak said. Even moved his hand up to rest on Isak's chest and Isak took it and kissed his fingers, like Even always did for him. Moved further down to kiss the healing scars, looking cleaner and less inflamed day by day, looking less and less like reminders and more like something that once happened, something in the past. “Because we still have to go on a date, right?” Isak asked. He pressed his lips to Even's forehead. “And you still have to kiss me.”

“I think I'll kiss you at our wedding,” Even said. “Like those overly-religious people.”

“I would really rather not do that,” Isak said. Even turned around so Isak would spoon him again, and Isak obliged. Even was a restless person and a restless sleeper, but it never bothered Isak.

“Yeah, it means that we're only allowed side hugs and we have to be supervised on dates.”

“Yeah? You want my dad to come on our weed-smoking and _X-Files_ date? That'll be a fun time.”

“And then we'll have a month-long courtship and I'll propose to you on one of our supervised dates,” Even said. “Then we'll plan a wedding and we'll kiss for the first time that night. We'll be married in two months, babe, doesn't that sound fun?”

“Where are you getting all of this information?” Isak asked. “You sound like you actually know what you're talking about for the first time ever, and I'm concerned as to why it's _this_.”

“Remember that show _19 Kids and Counting_? They're like that.”

“Wasn't their son, like, a rapist pedophile?”

“I didn't say they were good people, I just said they don't let their kids hug each other when they're dating.”

“Their kids date each other?”

“No they date kids from the other religious families. You're not paying attention.”

“So you think they'd have a problem with front-hugs but not with two guys getting married?”

“Well they're okay with their pedophile of a son.”

“That's cause it's a crime against women. They'd say that we're a crime against nature. A crime against God. And that's worse than being a crime against women.”

Even threaded his fingers through Isak's on his chest. “People suck, huh?”

“People suck so hard, babe.”

  
*

Getting his cast off made him feel ten pounds lighter instead of one. While the muscles had atrophied, the arm had healed, the cast had come off, and one more reminder, one more chain connecting him to his past, was gone. He felt freed, he felt this symbol of recovery every second, every time he flexed his fingers or bent his wrist.

It hit him hard, that he was healing. It made him happy. He realized he felt happy more often than not, now, and it was something he never would have thought could happen a month ago.

He saw Even walking down the hall, stopping when he saw Isak and smiling as he walked towards him. “Hi.”

“Hey,” Isak said, twining the fingers of both of his hands with those of Even's, pushing close against his chest to kiss his cheek. God, what he wouldn't give to turn his head and kiss those lips. His pride, apparently, because that was the one thing even remotely at risk.

“Something's different,” Even said as he freed his left hand from Isak's right and pushed up the left sleeve of Isak's hoodie, grinning when he saw the exposed skin. Air still felt new against it, and the brush of fabric.

“How's it look?” Isak asked, biting his lip.

Even wrapped his free hand around Isak's waist and smiled into the kiss pressed to his forehead. “It looks amazing. Like the rest of you. How's it feel?”

“Weak. They gave me a stress ball so that I can build the strength back up. It has the name of some antidepressant on it, and I can barely squeeze it.”

“You'll get there,” Even said. “It'll be back to normal in no time.”

“I don't know,” Isak said, wrapping his free hand around the back of Even's neck. “I'm normally pretty strong.”

“Oh, are you?”

“The strongest.”

“Interesting.”

Isak smiled, leaning forward to nudge their noses together and then resting his head in the crook of Even's neck. “Can we sit down somewhere?”

“Have you eaten?”

“They gave me a lollipop at the doctor.”

“I thought they only did that at banks.”

“They do that at banks and for toddlers in doctor's offices. I'm not hungry, they'll bring me food to my room later when they find out I missed lunch for the appointment, it's fine. I just have to tell Ann.” He tugged on Even's hand. “Let's just go to the common room, baby.”

“Whatever you want,” Even gushed.

“Well what about what you want, you sap?”

“I don't care where we go, what we do. There's not a lot of options here. I just want to hang out with you.”

Isak smiled. “You're too nice to me.”

“Impossible. Let's go.”

Isak could have sat next to Even on the couch. He could have, and he knew that, and Even knew that, but he didn't. He sat right on Even's lap, sideways with an arm around his neck and one hand still joined with Even's. And it was unnecessary but it was something he wanted. And something he could have, based on the way Even pulled him closer and hugged him tight and kept one arm wrapped around his midsection, hand resting gentle on his hip.

It was too early to be in love. It had to be, and yet he didn't have any other word for it.

“Look at us,” Even said turning their joined hands and smiling at the skin bared. “Getting better, huh?”

Isak let his thumb drift over the ridges on Even's wrists, forehead falling to Even's temple. “We're survivors, baby. Shouldn't be here but we are.”

“I'm glad we are.”

Isak kissed his temple. “Me, too.”

  
*

They had a bedtime routine, like they were a married couple instead of two teenagers who'd only known each other for five weeks. They brushed their teeth while the bathrooms were mostly empty, smiling at each other in the mirror, and drank water from the tap, and walked back to Isak's room without discussion, pushing and tripping and tugging. Even put his arms around Isak and lifted him off the ground so he'd laugh, and three people came out of their rooms to ask them if they could please be quiet, in varying levels of politeness.

“Can I have that hoodie?” Isak asked when they were in his room. “The big one?”

“The gray one?” Even asked, from Isak's bed. “ _My_ gray one?”

“Yes,” Isak said, rolling his eyes as he changed from jeans to sweatpants. “ _Your_ gray one. I like it.” He stood between Even's legs and cupped his face in his hands. “Please?”

“Of course you can,” Even said, looking up at him like he was the sun and moon and stars all wrapped up into one person. It made Isak feel so loved, all the time, the way Even looked at him and talked to him and touched him. “You make me fucking weak. I'll bring it when I come back, but right now I should go for bed check.”

“Okay,” Isak said, pouting a bit, tucking strands of Even's hair behind his ears. Even smiled.

“Will you miss me?” he asked.

“No,” Isak said.

“Really?”

“I'll forget about you.”

“We can't have that,” Even said, fitting his hands to Isak's hips as Isak slipped his arms around Even's neck. “You can't forget about me if we're gonna get married.”

“That's true,” Isak said. “Means you can't leave.”

“If I don't leave now the nurses will make me leave, and I won't be able to come back.”

“Fine,” Isak said. “Leave.” And then he kissed him, he lost first, but it didn't even matter because Even's surprised little gasp, his lips moving between Isak's, that was all he ever needed. His lips and tongue and teeth, his hands hugging him closer and closer until Isak put his knees up on the bed and straddled his lap just so that he could feel him all over. The way his hair slipped through Isak's fingers in the same way it always had, when they were watching movies, when Even was laying in his lap, when they were talking and laughing on the bench swing outside.

And Isak didn't feel dirty, and he didn't feel used. The last time he'd kissed someone wasn't tarnishing this, and now he could think of his last kiss and smile instead of cry, want to remember instead of force it to shut down. He could think of Even's lips, Even's hands. Even who made him feel safe, Even who he trusted.

When they pulled apart to breathe, Even opened his eyes slowly, looked up at Isak with the utmost wonder.

“You're fucking amazing,” he said, and Isak smiled, tracing over Even's red lips with his thumb. “And you lost but I won't even rub it in your face until tomorrow, that's how much I like you.”

“What a gentleman,” Isak said. “You still have to go.”

“I don't want to _now_.”

“You have to come back, Even, so you have to go now.”

“God, you're making this difficult for me,” Even said, pushing Isak off of his lap as he stood up. “I never want to leave you, and _now_ , God, I feel like an asshole leaving you after the first time you kissed me.”

“Then just promise me you'll come back,” Isak said, watching Even move slowly backwards to the door.

“I promise you I'll come back, baby.”

“And kiss me goodbye.”

Even stumbled a few steps forward in his hurry to comply and Isak smiled into the kiss pressed against his lips, breaking away before it became a problem and they were caught.

“I'll see you in twenty minutes,” Isak said.

“Fuck, okay,” Even said, hand on the doorknob. “Twenty minutes. I can survive twenty minutes.”

“I hope so.”

Isak fell back on the bed when Even was gone and tried to not be grinning wildly when the aid came in for bed check. He turned the light off and waited for Even to deem it safe enough to walk through the hallways without getting caught, tried not to think too hard because when he thought too hard it was usually about all the bad things that'd happened.

But now he just thought about Even. And he felt like he was in control again, just through that one small nudge forward. Just from choosing to kiss Even. Because it'd been forced on him, last time.

This was retaking old memories, retaking control. He didn't feel afraid, and he'd thought that he always would.

When Even came back he was quick to get in bed and pull Isak against him, quick to kiss him, and it didn't feel like he was doing it selfishly, doing it for himself. It felt like he was doing it for the both of them, because they both wanted to. Even helped him into the gray hoodie and Even kissed him like he loved him. It was the best feeling in the world.

 


	7. Even

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so here's the last even chapter! only one more chapter and it'll be over, and i've had fun writing this one :) i'll try to get the last chapter out for ya'll within the next couple of days. 
> 
> thank you so much for all of your kudos and comments, reading what you have to say makes me really happy. my tumblr is @supermansplaining if you want to talk or read a bit about the next fic, or if you have any questions!
> 
> warnings in the end notes, bbys <3

*

“These are healing beautifully, Even, how do they feel?” Doctor Einar asked, holding Even's wrist between his hands and then releasing it with a smile.

“It's like they're not even there,” Even said. “I thought they'd be an issue, but... they're not. I'm fine.”

“That's great,” Doctor Einar said. “What do you think caused that change of heart?”

“Someone told me they weren't bad,” he said.

“Someone?” Doctor Einar asked with a knowing smile. “Wonder who.”

Even smiled. “Yes. It was Isak. He told me they didn't have to remind me of something bad. They could be a symbol of healing instead. So I chose to go with that.”

“I think that was a really great choice.”

“Me too.”

“So it sounds like things are going well with Isak, then?” the doctor asked, poising a pen over his notepad.

“Yes,” Even said with a smile that was almost shy. “They are.”

“That's perfect. Any concerns there that you'd like to talk about?”

“I don't know. I'm... afraid of hurting him, still. Afraid of losing his trust if I do something wrong. It's... hard for him, I know, and I don't want to... overstep.”

“I'm sure you don't,” Doctor Einar said. “And that's a very nice intent that you have there. PTSD is very volatile, and it's good that you're cautious. But Isak has been here for a long time, okay, he's learning how to handle himself and speak up. It's not your responsibility to _know_ his limits automatically, that's impossible. You can talk about it together, but that side of himself is up to him, okay, not you. The most you can do is make sure he feels comfortable with what you're doing, and trust that he'll stop you if something goes too far. Okay? Trust goes both ways.”

“Yeah,” Even said. “Yeah, okay.”

“Okay?” Even nodded. “Great. Shall we move on to your favorite subject?”

“Gross, my parents?”

Doctor Einar smiled. “Yes, your parents. If you'd like.”

“Not really,” he said. “But I will. Um, they haven't visited in a while, I asked them not to. I can't... look at my mom's face, she just looks so sad all the time and _I'm_ not that sad anymore but she makes me feel worse about myself. I mean, I know she has the right to be sad, I'm not trying to tell her she can't feel sad, I just wish she would... try to act like this is my life, too. Both of them.”

“I understand where you're coming from. And I'm glad you're feeling better, I know that this depressive episode probably feels endless. And this might be different than what you thought I'd say, but if you don't want to please your parents, then don't. You get better on your own time, and eventually they'll see that. They'll always worry, they're parents, but there's nothing you can do about that. I don't want you to worry about anyone's comfort but your own, okay? That's what you're going to need to learn to focus on in the long run, so you're able to discern signs of an episode from normal life. No one else matters right now, except for you.”

“What about my relationship with them, though?” Even asked. “What if this ruins it?”

“I'm not saying ice them out completely,” Doctor Einar said. “You need to have them in your support system, like we've talked about. But that's about _support_ , okay, not control. You can inform them of your moods, you can tell them how you're doing, but what we don't want is for them to be in charge. We're going for independence, right? You need to know yourself without them telling you what to look for.”

Even leaned back in the chair. “Yeah, okay. That makes sense. They're just... protective, I guess, and right now it's hard to say no to them. I can't handle the disappointment, and shit. I'm not feeling very... mentally strong? I guess? Like my brain can't handle a lot before getting exhausted. And they exhaust me. Easily. And immediately.”

“Well, by the time you're out of here, you won't be so easily exhausted. This episode won't last forever, I know it feels like it might. You've already made so much progress, and this won't last very much longer, okay? A month and a half gone, you're doing so well.”

“Sometimes it feels that way,” Even said with a nod. “But then... I'll slide back a little bit, and have to stay in bed for most of the day like I had to three weeks ago. And it feels like it'll never fucking end.”

“I know,” Doctor Einar said. “Believe me, I do. Because all healing is like that, Even, okay? I promise you it's not just you and your brain and your disorder. Everyone goes up and down, it's just the way healing goes. And one day it _will_ end. It _will_ stop going backwards. I can assure you that. Let's go over your moods right now, okay? What color would you say you're at right now?”

“Green,” Even said.

“Feeling energized? Social?”

Even nodded.

“Good. Have you felt this way all day?”

“Yeah, pretty much for the past little while, I guess,” Even said. “A few days ago I was at, like, a yellow, maybe. Had to take a lot of naps but was able to talk and eat and stuff. But it's been more green than yellow lately.”

“That's great, Even,” Doctor Einar said. “Because for a while you were always red. And then you were red and sometimes yellow, then more yellow than red, then yellow with some green. Do you see how it works? You'll go back and forth, but you're always getting better. Always better than you were at that lowest point and always better than you were a few weeks before.”

Even smiled. “Okay.”

“There we go. Good, smiles are good. How's it been, coming up with a schedule?”

“I've started going to bed earlier,” Even said. “Uh, you remember I said I'm sharing a bed with Isak most nights?”

Doctor Einar nodded with a smile. He'd been a very good sport when Even had told him, had said that if it helps him sleep then he shouldn't be discouraged from it, not this early on in his recovery. Anything that could help should be used to help.

“Well, it changed to... every night,” Even said. “And... so we used to stay up really late talking because my meds were still adjusting and he was sleeping all day so he couldn't at night, you know? And then we'd end up sleeping in until lunch. So I've been getting the nine hours you've suggested, just at different time periods. It used to start at like four am and end at... what is that, one? But now it's been more, like, eleven or twelve when we pass out, and we wake up a little earlier.”

“That's good,” Doctor Einar said. “That's more along the lines of what I'd like to see from you, sleep-wise. And how about your diet? Eating three times a day, every day?”

“Yeah, I don't miss meals anymore,” he said. “Not since I started waking up earlier. They've stopped checking on me, to make sure I eat? So if I miss something now I have to tell them to get food rolled in, it's not like how it used to be when I was all depressed all the time.”

“Good thing, too, because if they saw you in Isak's bed they'd kick you out,” Doctor Einar said. “And I can't really rightly defend two of our patients cohabiting, even if I don't mind it. Because it technically _is_ against the rules. But you are making your own decisions, now, and if this is one of them, I support it. I think Isak's a very nice boy. And I think you could be very good for each other.”

And Even agreed.

  
*

Kissing Isak was heaven. Everything he thought it'd be and everything more. And, like they were starved for it, they did it everywhere they could. Pressed against the bathroom wall, sitting on the common room couches, watching movies in bed. And Even was careful, so careful, because there were places that Isak didn't like Even's hands and Even always had to remember not to catch his wrists or slide his palms too far down his back. They never maneuvered themselves into positions that Isak couldn't get out of on his own, and they never went further, but it was fine. Better than fine—getting to kiss Isak at all was something Even felt privileged to be able to do, and he would have been the happiest person in the world even if they never kissed once, as long as he got to have Isak at all.

Because Isak just made him feel _better_. He didn't make him feel different than he'd been before the attempt like his friends did unintentionally, he didn't make him feel guilty like his family did knowingly. There were no reminders that things were different, now. He made him feel normal and he made him feel loved.

And nothing had changed except a bit of added intimacy. They still talked and laughed and cuddled, still ate meals together and made fun of each other and sat on the bench in the garden. But now they got to kiss as they did it. They got to kiss as they did anything.

They got to kiss now. Isak's book had been discarded on the side of the bed and he was straddling Even as they laid on top of the covers, hands cupping Even's jaw and Even's arms around his waist, constantly reminding himself to keep them there.

“Baby,” Isak said breathlessly against his lips.

“What? What's wrong?”

Isak smiled, Even could feel it on his skin. “Stop thinking so much. It's okay. You don't have to be so careful.”

“I'm so scared of hurting you,” Even said, letting his head fall back on the pillow to look up at Isak. He was painfully aware of just how close Isak's ass was to his dick, and just how interested his dick was to this situation.

“You aren't hurting me,” Isak said, letting his palms trail down Even's chest. “You never do.”

“I don't want to trigger anything.”

“We'll figure it out if you do,” Isak said, leaning back in. “I'll tell you to stop, you know I will. So just... touch me, Even. We'll figure it out.” He kissed him again, pulled closer, reached behind him to slide one of Even's hands down his back to the seat of his jeans. He smiled when Even put a hesitant hand on his ass, nodded to let him know it was okay, kissed him again deeper and deeper.

“I'm so fucking glad you lost the bet,” Even said against his lips.

“I hate you,” Isak answered, twisting his fingers in Even's hair and kissing him again.

“Because I wasn't going to lose, so I'm really glad you did.”

Isak pulled back from him. “Are you trying to make me break up with you?”

“Oh, are we dating?” Even asked, smirk playing on his lips as Isak seemed to realize what he'd said and blushed in recognition. “Is that what we're doing? Are you my boyfriend?”

“Damn right I am,” Isak said, all shyness gone, and Even loved him.

“Then I'm yours, too,” he said, and tugged him back down for a kiss.

Isak rolled over onto his back, dragged Even over him, and it was new and it was scary but it was wonderful, too, to know that Isak trusted him enough to do this, Isak who never let himself be pinned into corners, Isak who never let himself be anywhere inescapable. And Even was terrified of messing up, of scaring Isak, but Isak told him not to be so he was trying not to be.

And soon he wasn't. Soon he was lost in Isak's lips and his laughs and his smiles, Isak's hands on his shoulders and neck and cheeks. The sound of Isak's sharp intakes of breath, and his sighs, and the slick slide of his lips against Even's. It was beautiful like Isak was beautiful.

They were able to go about ten minutes in that position before Isak started breathing too hard and Even pulled back to place hands on his cheeks and ground him back in the moment. “Baby?”

Isak squeezed his eyes shut and grasped Even's wrists, not pushing him away but holding him closer. “Talk to me,” he said breathlessly, opening his eyes to look up at him, trailing over his face. “Talk to me, Even, you... you have to—”

“Okay, baby,” Even said, shifting to his side, hovering halfway over him instead of all the way and keeping his hands in place along his jaw. “Okay, baby, it's okay. We're fine, right, it's us, you and me, right?” He watched Isak nod, watched Isak's eyes trace over his features, watched Isak's breathing start to calm. “You're so gorgeous, baby. And you're so smart and fun, so funny, so wonderful. You're everything I always wanted, Isak, you're better than I could have thought. And I'm yours, right, baby? I'm yours.”

Isak curled his arms around Even's neck and pulled him in close, rolling them both to their sides and burying his face in his arms. “I think I love you,” he mumbled, voice muffled, and Even was almost paralyzed at the words, smile spreading so widely he was shocked it didn't hurt.

“Well that's a relief,” Even said, rubbing his back, nosing into his hair. “Because I definitely love you.”

Isak smiled, broke away from him to hold his face in his hands and scoot close enough that they almost went cross-eyed at the proximity. “Even though I can't kiss you all the time?”

“Even if you never kissed me again,” Even said.

Isak kissed him again, short and sweet, chaste and happy, and Even wrapped his arms around him and held him protective and close.

“Say it again,” Even requested, kissing his forehead.

“Why should I?” Isak asked, tipping his chin up in petulant disobedience, smile playing on the corners of his lips.

“Because it'd make me happy,” Even said.

“Well in that case,” Isak said, tucking his head under Even's chin. “I guess I love you.”

“Mm, you guess?” Even asked, pulling the blankets out from beneath his body and laying them over the two of them. Pretending the words from Isak's lips weren't the most beautiful things he'd ever heard. “Then I guess I love you, too.”

“Romantic,” Isak said, smile in his voice.

“I _am_ pretty romantic,” Even said. “And when I'm out there with you, I'm going to dazzle you, gorgeous. So you gotta wait for me.” His voice softened, and it came out a lot more real than he had intended when he said, “You'll wait for me, right?”

Isak pulled back from his chest and moved up to the share his pillow. “Of course I will,” he said, brushing his fingers through Even's hair. “I'd wait for you forever. You know that, right?”

Even had severe insecurities, he knew that. After everything, after he cut everyone off because he was afraid of them leaving first, he still harbored those fears and he hated them.

“You're perfect, Even,” Isak said, stroking his cheek. He smiled. “And I love you. In case you didn't know.”

“You might have to remind me a lot,” Even said.

“And you'll have to remind me, too,” Isak said. He stroked down his jawline, over his lips. “Doesn't seem like such a terrible task, does it?”

  
*

“You play one,” Isak said, pausing his Spotify and locking his phone.

“Okay, give me a second,” Even said. He pushed off the ground so the bench would swing, and started scrolling through his music library, one of Isak's hands a steady weight on his thigh. Touching each other still felt electric and new, even though it was what they did most and what they did best. He found Nas and smiled, navigated through to open _Illmatic_ and play “The Genesis,” wrapping his arm around Isak's shoulders and pulling him into his side.

“What's this?” Isak asked after a minute. “I like this.”

“You've never heard this before?” Even asked.

Isak shook his head. “No, who is it?”

“It's Nas. Rapper from the nineties? I thought you liked tough-guy rappers from the nineties, I thought you liked old-school hip hop.”

“I _do_ , but I've never heard about _him_.” He looked at Even's open mouth and laughed. “You're acting so scandalized!”

“I _am_ so scandalized!” Even said, laughing and pressing a kiss to his temple.

“You're such a dork,” Isak said.

“Wow, I haven't heard you say that in a while,” Even said. “It's nice to know your feelings towards me haven't changed.”

“They've changed a little bit,” Isak said, tipping his head up and smiling.

“Yeah?” Even asked, pecking him on the lips. “How so?”

“Well I love you, now,” Isak said. “Even if you _are_ a dork. Which you are. And I'm... sappier now, than I was before. Because of you.”

“Because of me?” Even asked. “I got the grouchy, grumpy Isak Valtersen to be sappy? That's my greatest accomplishment.”

“Yeah, you don't have a lot of great accomplishments,” Isak said, smiling at Even's offended gasp. “But luckily you're cute.”

Even smiled, edging closer to him, making Isak laugh and fall away from him. “Aw, you think I'm cute?”

Isak put his palms on Even's chest and then he fell down on his back, bench swinging wildly beneath the new weight distribution and Isak laughing, holding his hands up in front of his face while Even tried to kiss him. “Not as cute as me,” he said, taking hold of Even's face in his hands and pushing him backwards.

“Really?” Even asked, sitting up with his legs on either side of Isak's, Isak's hands caught in Even's shirt, fisting bunches of fabric and pulling him in. Even fell over him and kissed him, forearms flat on either side of Isak's head. “No one's as cute as you, baby,” he said, and Isak smiled and kissed him again, winding arms around Even's neck, and Even tried to move to shove one of his legs between Isak's because the back of the bench was cutting into his thigh and Isak's flesh would feel so much softer, but he moved too much too quickly and the bench swung back and they toppled out, onto the garden's grass, Even on his back with Isak's hand beneath his head to cushion the landing.

Isak took one look at Even's stunned face and burst into laughter, falling onto his side to lay next to him. “Are you okay?” he asked, when he could manage to speak again, but Even was so captivated with the sound of his laugh that he didn't answer. He just rolled to his side so he could look at Isak, he smiled and cupped his cheek and watched Isak's eyes soften as he looked up at him, sweet smile on his lips. His cheeks were flushed pink with his laughter and Even didn't think he'd ever have this. A boy who loved him, a boy who made him absolutely _feel_ loved.

He thought he was so wrong, for struggling with his sexuality. He thought he was sinning even though his friends said he wasn't, he clung to the one bad thing Mikael had said and ignored all the good, from him and from everyone else. When he tried to take his life, it was because he was unhappy with who he was, unhappy with what he'd done.

And he was happy now. He was so happy. He felt confident in himself, in his sexuality, in Isak. And even if they didn't last, at least he liked himself, now. He hoped he'd be able to love Isak for a long time, but reality said that there was a chance that he wouldn't. And now, like he couldn't have before, he would be able to accept it as reality instead of personal fault.

He stroked Isak's cheek and smiled when Isak moved closer to him, Nas still playing on the bench and Isak's hand cold on the strip of skin between his boxers and hoodies.

“I love you,” Even said quietly.

Isak tipped his chin back, looked up at him with admiration and said, “I love you, too. A whole lot, actually.”

“A whole lot?” Even asked.

“More than I think I should.”

Even stroked his hair behind his ear. “Why's that?”

“I'm afraid it's too soon,” Isak said quietly. “I feel the way I feel, but I'm scared.”

“What are you scared of, baby?”

Isak just looked up at him with big eyes. “I don't know. I'm just scared.”

And Even was, too. He'd been with the same girl for years, a girl he'd loved for his entire life but only temporarily in the right way. He'd had a sexuality crisis so severe it'd almost killed him. He wasn't completely confident in this yet, either, he was afraid of hurting Isak and he was afraid of being hurt himself.

“We don't have to take this quickly at all,” Even said. “I'm not ready, either. But it's okay. We've got all the time in the world.”

Isak smiled and moved closer, let the tips of their noses brush together. “How do you always know just what to say?”

“I don't,” Even said. He pulled Isak in by his waist, smiled down at him. “But you make it easy.”

  
*

Isak was asleep next to him, because when Even chose the movie Isak was never able to stay awake and aware for more than half of it. _Moulin Rouge_ didn't hold his attention for longer than the time it took to complain that he didn't understand the plot and then promptly fall asleep in Even's lap.

Isak was precious when he slept, and Even would never get tired of seeing his relaxed face even though they woke up together every morning. Even smiled down at him and stroked through his hair, and Isak snuggled further into the warmth of his thigh, pulling the blankets over his shoulders and making adorable little snuffling noises. Even rubbed his back and picked up his phone, the movie still playing on Isak's laptop at the foot of the bed.

While Elias and Yousef had been texting him a few times each day, they also hadn't removed him from the group chat. He'd muted it while he was in the hospital, at the same time that he deleted all of his social media accounts, but every day he'd gotten nearer and nearer to checking it again.

And today he did. He scrolled through two months of ignored photos and memes and ridiculous conversations, smiled at his friends' words, wished he'd been a part. He looked at texts inquiring how he was, aimed at Elias and Yousef since they were the only ones he was talking to.

Mikael had been less active—they all had, really, they joked less and didn't go out so much. But they were getting on with their lives and Even was happy for them. He didn't want them to be sad, or to put their lives on hold.

A month ago he'd be sad, he'd wish that he was progressing like they were. But now he realized that he _was_. He _was_ getting better, he _was_ feeling good. He was happy. He was healing. He used to have troubles celebrating any small victories, but now it was a source of pride. He ate all three meals today, he slept for nine hours straight, he was able to stay awake all day and talk to everyone. He didn't feel silly celebrating that, now. He felt proud.

“Even?” Isak mumbled, shifting on his thigh. When Even looked down his eyes were halfway opened and he was struggling with his consciousness.

“Hi, sleepyhead,” Even said, brushing fingers through his hair.

“That's a lame name,” Isak murmured. He nestled further into Even's sweatpants. “Are you gonna sleep, soon?”

“Yeah, I'll sleep soon, babe. Don't wait up. Go back to sleep.”

“Don't stay up too late,” Isak said, turning away and nudging his face into the down of the pillow, tugging the blanket to his neck and curving his back against the side of Even's leg.

“I won't,” Even said with a smile, smoothing a hand over his back and then turning back to his phone, suddenly brave.

_Hi Mikael._

_Do you want to talk when I get out? I think I'm ready for it if you are._

He didn't have to wait long at all for a reply, the bubbles popped up instantly and the text seemed urgent and eager and excited. _Even! Of course I want to talk, I'd love to talk to you. I'm so sorry._

Even smiled, reread the text, and sent back one of his own. _I met a boy. I hope that's ok with you._

Despite the fact that he told himself he wouldn't care if Mikael told him _again_ that he was wrong for what and who he wanted, he was afraid of the rejection. But he'd be okay, he'd get over it. It wouldn't be like it was last time.

_That's awesome Even. Seriously. I'm so sorry I made you think it wouldn't be. I'm so sorry._

_What's he like? Is he good to you?_

Even breathed out a sigh of relief, smiled, and glanced down at Isak's sleeping face. _He's amazing. Everything I've ever wanted._

And he _was_ , and it was incredible. Because he was everything he'd ever wanted, and he _had_ him. He was Isak's, and Isak was his, and it made all the fucking sense in the world, for the first time in a long time.

  
*

Even was sitting up on the couch with Isak's head in his lap, drawing in his sketchbook that rested on the couch's arm as Isak read his book. It was so... domestic. They could sit in silence for hours, not talking, just touching, doing completely different tasks. Even loved it, he loved him; there were no obligations and there were no expectations. If Even didn't feel like talking, Isak never made him. Every so often Even would lean down to give him a kiss, then go back to his drawing. Sometimes little doodles of Isak, little comic strip panels. Sometimes they were sketched profiles, shaded portraits. They were usually of him, though. He was a beautiful subject.

Their phones were on the floor in front of the couch and Isak reached for them to find the one that was buzzing anytime he heard a notification. He grabbed one, glanced at the screen, and then passed it over to Even. “Phonecall,” he said, turning back to his book. Even took it and ran his free hand through Isak's hair.

“Hello?”

“Hi, hon,” his mom said. “How are you?”

Even tried not to sigh audibly, but he must have shown his annoyance at least a little bit because Isak was looking up at him in amusement.

“Hi, Mom,” he said. “I'm fine. How are you?”

“Good!” she said, too enthusiastically. “Good, your dad and I are both good. We miss you.”

“Oh,” Even said, and Isak started laughing. Even put his hand over Isak's mouth and made loud shushing noises that his mom most certainly heard.

“Is there someone else there?” she asked. “Am I interrupting something?”

“No, I'm just hanging out with Isak,” Even said. “A... friend.”

The exaggerated offense on Isak's face was almost enough to make Even lose it, but he didn't.

“Good friend,” he amended, tracing his fingers over Isak's face and seemingly pacifying him. “What's up, Mom, is everything okay?”

“We were wondering if you talked to Doctor Einar about entrance into a halfway house?”

“Mom,” he sighed. “I told you I didn't want to _go_ to a halfway house, it's not so much for people like me as it is for people with... schizophrenia, or major depression. Doctor Einar said they probably won't let me in, because you have to apply. It's need-based. I don't have the need.”

“I don't feel comfortable letting you move into your own apartment, Even, you _know_ this.”

“I won't,” he said. “I'll find roommates. Isak already suggested someone, and I've talked to him and he said he'd be happy to give me the spare room. It's two roommates, I'll be well looked after.”

“How do you know you can trust this man?” she asked, like an accusation, like she was going to catch him.

“They're only a year or two older than me, I don't know. They work and they go to college, and they know Isak. If Isak trusts them then I do.”

“How?” she asked. “How do you know that he can be trusted? That this _Isak_ is right to trust him?”

“Because Eskild saved his fucking _life_ , Mom, that's as trustworthy as you can be. And if you don't like him, then I'll find someone else. But no matter what, I'm not coming home. Doctor Einar and I made the decision together, this isn't just me disobeying you or being a stupid kid. So _please_ stop pushing. Please. You can't disapprove of all my choices just so I'll decide to come home, it doesn't work like that and it's not fair.”

Isak was looking up at him with a smile, holding Even's free hand in both of his own. When Isak was proud of him, Even was proud of himself. And he would realize, it wasn't so bad, to be happy because he persevered, to be proud because he conquered. He was getting better, he'd progressed from a mindset that had decided that the only choice was to not continue to one that said he'd be okay, no matter what. That he could survive, no matter how bad it sometimes felt.

He _had_ survived. And he would again, and again, and every time for as long as he could.

It didn't seem like such a challenge, anymore.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: symptoms of PTSD (very mild), talk about injuries from suicide attempt, discussion of bipolar disorder and PTSD


	8. Isak

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> last chapter! thank you for sticking with me through this fluffy mess!  
> love your comments and appreciate your kudos so so much. thank you!  
> my tumblr is @supermansplaining if you want to talk or have any questions <3

*

“Are you gonna miss me when I'm gone?” Isak asked.

“No,” Ellen said. “Get your feet off the couch.”

Isak set his feet heavily on the coffee table instead and said, “I know you're just lashing out because you're afraid of change.” He tapped the side of his head. “Therapy.”

“Thank you for that diagnosis, Isak,” Ellen said with a smile. “Can we get started?”

“Yeah,” Isak said. “Let's get started. First question, let's go.”

Ellen rolled her eyes. “You can go home as soon as you want,” she said. “You need to choose a day.”

Isak thought for a second and said, “Friday? I can be ready by Friday.”

“Friday's perfect,” Ellen said, making a note of it. She looked up and leaned back in her chair, laying her notepad in her lap. “How are you feeling about leaving?”

“A little scared,” Isak said. “But... excited. To go home, and be with my dad. I don't know. I'll take my exams and then have all summer off to get used to... everything. The real world, and all that.”

“You'll go to therapy?” she asked.

“I will,” he said with a firm nod.

“And you'll see me in outpatient every few months?”

“Just so that you don't miss me too much,” Isak said. “But yes.”

“I have a list of psychologists I recommend for regular practice,” she said, pulling a piece of paper from his file. “They're all women, they're all specialists. They have patients that are mostly healing from trauma or sexual abuse.”

“Great,” Isak said, looking at the list with rising panic at the options presented.

“I can call and make you an appointment with the first one on that list, okay? She's who I want you to try first, but if you don't like her after the first few appointments, contact me and I'll call the next one. Does that sound good?”

“Yes,” Isak said with a relieved sigh. “That sounds better than me dealing with it myself.”

“I want you to be able to deal with it yourself in the future,” Ellen said. “But you never have to do anything alone. You have your dad, and you have me and your friends. And you have Even.”

Isak smiled. “Yeah. I have Even.”

She laughed. “That's what you got out of that?”

“I like being reminded of it,” Isak said.

“Make sure your dad can come pick you up on Friday,” Ellen said. “Okay?”

“I'll call him later.” He looked up at her and tried to sound casual when he asked, “Do you think Even will be okay?”

She crossed her legs, a sure sign that she was about to start a line of important inquisitions while making it sound like a small question. “Are you worried about leaving Even behind?”

“Of course I am,” Isak said. “I know he'll be... fine without me, that's not what I'm worried about. It's not that he can't function without me.”

“Then what is it?” she asked, poising her pen ready to write.

“I don't know. This whole thing is based on us seeing each other all the time, every day. What if it's not the same? What if he realizes that, like, when we don't need each other—when he doesn't need _me_ , he can be just fine without me there. Because he's so strong and he's getting better a lot faster than I am, and when he gets out he'll be out of his depression but I'll still be recovering from PTSD years from now, maybe forever.”

“That doesn't mean he's too good for you, Isak,” she said. “He has a mood disorder, that's a lifelong thing to deal with and have a handle on. Have you thought that he might be thinking the same thing? That because you're getting out first, it means you'll be too good for him?”

“But it's not true. It's not the same. Because I'm not _cured—_ ”

“Neither is he, Isak. And if your relationship changes when you're back in your own lives, then that's okay. That's what happens. It means that you work when there's nothing to focus on but yourselves, and it works when you're back in your lives, focusing on school and work and family and friends. And that's good. It's healthy.”

“He won't forget about me? Find someone better?”

“Do you think that that's something that he would do?” Ellen asked. “Do you think that he's the kind of person who would... trade you in for someone without a mental illness?”

“Well he wouldn't phrase it like that,” Isak mumbled, and then closed his eyes and shook his head said, “I know he wouldn't do that. He wouldn't. I just want to be good enough. What if he _deserves_ someone better?”

“I don't want you to think about yourself like that,” Ellen said. “You have gotten _so_ much better, Isak. I'm so proud of your progress. And I'm one hundred percent sure that Even is, too.”

“I know he is,” Isak said. “He is, he tells me all the time. And I really believe him when he says he loves me and wants to be with me and stuff. This is just... irrational fears. Because I want to go home but I don't want to leave him behind. I feel so... guilty about it. Guilty about leaving when he has to stay. Guilty about being excited when he still has... shit to figure out.”

“Would he want you to feel guilty?” she asked. “Do you think he feels like you're abandoning him?”

“No, I don't think so,” he said. And there was his answer, yes, but--

“Maybe you should have a conversation with Even, then,” Ellen said kindly, an easy smile on her lips. “Maybe he's the one who can convince you. That you have a right to be excited, that you can be proud to be healing enough to be ready to go.”

Isak smiled at her. “But what about _you_ , Ellen. What are _you_ gonna do without me here?”

“Actually get work done, maybe?”

“You'll be so lonely, though, with your dumb adult patients.”

“This is the adult ward.”

“And yet I'm your favorite. The one child.”

“Let's move on.”

“I feel like you changing the subject is a way to cope with an uncomfortable change in your environment,” he said. He leaned forward. “Therapy.”

“In a week you'll be someone else's problem,” Ellen said with a smile.

“And once every few months I'll be your problem again,” Isak said, winking.

“Can't wait.”

  
*

“Hey,” Isak said, holding Even's hand on the garden's bench. “There's something I have to do before I leave.”

“Okay,” Even said. “What do you have to do?”

“Sleep alone,” Isak said. “So that I know that I can.”

“Oh,” Even said with a smile, smoothing Isak's hair back. “That's not so bad.”

“Not so bad? Not so _bad_?”

“Yeah, drama queen, not so bad! Your voice implied that you were delivering the news of your impending death.”

“Even! I don't want to sleep without you!”

“You're gonna have to, baby,” Even said, hugging him close. “There'll be a few weeks before I get out there with you.”

“How long?” Isak asked, burying his face in Even's neck.

“We haven't talked about it, yet,” Even said.

“I'm gonna miss you,” Isak said, laying his legs across Even's lap and curling into him. “I don't want to miss you.”

“Hey, we don't have to talk about that right now,” Even said. “Look, babe, we've been together twenty-four-seven in here. It's not realistic for a relationship out there, okay? We'll never be able to be together like that when we're not in the hospital. But it's gonna be fine. We're gonna be fine.”

“How do you know?”

“I guess I don't. I don't _know_ anything, I can't guarantee anything. But I know you're strong, and I'm strong, and we're gonna get through it. We're gonna talk on the phone and text each other, and I'll come to your house and you'll come to mine. It won't be like it is now but it'll be _better_ , babe. We'll have our lives back, and we'll be part of those lives. You'll be part of mine and I'll be part of yours. Okay? It won't be just the two of us anymore, but it doesn't have to be.”

“I love you,” Isak said, smiling into the crook of his neck.

“I love you, too,” Even said. “And that matters more than whether or not we're together all the time.”

“Yeah,” Isak said. “I guess you're right.”

“So we can go one night without sleeping together, right? One night when we're in here, and then a few weeks when you're out there, and then a couple times a week when we're back together out there, okay? And then one day, if we're lucky, we can sleep in the same bed every night. Let's just get our lives back, first.”

“You're too sweet,” Isak said, winding his arms around Even's neck. “Why are you so sweet?”

“Why are you so soft?” Even asked, nosing into Isak's hair.

“Because I don't want to sleep without you when we only have four days left together. And this is my way of trying to convince you to stay in my bed.”

“It's one night,” Even said, kissing his temple with a smile. “We can go one night. And then we'll be together the next nights, and then you'll get outta here and it'll be great.”

“Will you be able to sleep without me?” Isak asked. “Because when I'm out I'll have my dad and Jonas and Eva, but I don't want you to... to not have anyone--”

“Babe,” Even said, cradling his jaw and smiling at him. “I'll be fine. I don't want you to worry about me. Because I feel so good. You helped me feel better, and now it's time for me to do the rest on my own. And if I ever need anything, you're just a phone call away. I know that.”

“I want you to heal,” he said. “I _do_ want you to get better. I'll just miss you. I'll miss seeing you get better.”

“You've seen me come out of my depression, Isak. You've helped me accept myself and love myself and love _you_. But I gotta do it on my own, and know that I _can_ do it on my own.”

“You can,” Isak said, smiling up at him. “I know you can. Because you're strong. And I'll miss you but I'm so excited to see you come out of here ready to be yourself again.”

And he was, he was so proud of Even, he was so happy for him. Even had stopped being so insecure, he'd stopped relying on others for confirmation of his personality and his choices. He didn't cut Isak off when he felt sad, he let people in and he talked things through instead of leaving and going silent. And Isak was so happy that he could have helped with that, that he helped to open Even up and start to love himself.

But Even needed to love himself for who he was, not for what Isak loved him for. Isak understood that, and he was glad that Even came to that conclusion. And he knew that he could do it. Even could do anything he wanted, and Isak was so happy to know him and so happy to watch him grow. Because he knew how hard it was. He'd gone through it then like he was going through it now.

“Should we go to bed, then?” Even asked, rubbing his back and speaking into his hair. “It's almost ten. Almost time to turn the lights off.”

“I don't want to let go of you,” Isak mumbled into his neck.

“One night, babe.”

“And then weeks of nights after that,” Isak said unhappily.

“What if we trade hoodies?” Even said. “You take mine, I'll take yours. And it's not the same, but maybe it'll help.”

Placebo effect—believe it'd help and it'd help, and Isak pulled back to smile at him. Because he truly did believe it'd help, having something of Even's wrapped around him in place of Even, as he got used to the absence in his bed again. He'd barely slept alone since everything happened, and he knew that Even hadn't either. The time they _had_ spent apart was sleepless, because they were still getting used to the healing process.

“I'd love that,” Isak said. “I'd love it, and I love you.”

They walked back inside hand-in-hand and stopped in Isak's bedroom because it was the one without Ben who, while unresponsive, was still very much aware of their presence and their conversations, and it was easier to be sappy and lovestruck when no one was watching.

“Here,” Even said, slipping out of his black hoodie and handing it over. Isak held it between his hands like it was something precious because he felt like it was.

“Thank you,” he said, kneading the fabric. It was soft and the arms would be too long but it'd fit him perfectly and he'd feel safe in it. “Which one of mine do you want?”

“The gray one,” Even said, putting his hands on Isak's hips. “The one with that pull... thing.”

“What pull thing?” Isak asked.

“The elastic thing in front of the hood,” Even said, bringing his finger up to the dip in Isak's throat. “Right here.”

Isak went to the dresser and found the hoodie and passed it to Even, then put his arms around him as if he was leaving for war and not for one night right down the hall. And it wouldn't have seemed like such a big deal if they didn't have such little time left together. If they weren't so used to sharing their beds, even for little naps and even when they were just cuddling for half the day.

“It'll be okay, baby,” Even said. “We'll both be okay.”

And, yeah. Maybe they would be.

So Isak kissed him heavy and deep, hugged him again, and he left with a soft spoken goodbye and a bright smile.

He put on Even's hoodie, pulled the hood over his head, and got in bed to go to sleep. And he did, easily, because the next morning he would see Even, and for the weeks after he would see Even, and hopefully for a long time he would see Even. And maybe his boyfriend didn't cause his peace of mind, didn't bring it with him when he entered the room, maybe his mind was just at peace. It was a good feeling.

Even slept too, because when they met the next morning and ate breakfast and crawled back into bed together, he knew Even wasn't lying.

He could do this. They could both do this.

  
*

Before, when there was no end in sight, when they were both going to be there for the foreseeable future, there was no rush to do anything. There were no plans, there was no lost time. They could sit in silence with each other and do their own things, and they could take naps, and it didn't feel like they were wasting time.

And now—

Now Isak was afraid to do nothing with Even, but there simply wasn't anything to do. They were already together all the time, and the psychiatric ward had little in terms of entertainment. So they did what they'd always done, but Isak dreaded each hour that passed.

It wasn't that he wasn't excited to go home; he was, more than anything. He wanted to live with his dad again, he wanted to make a life with him. He wanted to pass his exams and remove the weight of potential failure from his shoulders. He wanted to be able to walk around Oslo freely and visit Jonas and Eva and eat kebab at two in the morning. But he wanted Even to be there with him, and he knew it was irrational because they'd be together soon enough and they'd been together for weeks, but knowing it was irrational didn't make it easier to ignore.

“Don't you want to do something?” Isak asked, chin propped up on his hands and arms folded over Even's chest.

Even looked down at him with a smile. “Like what?”

“I don't know.”

“Are you bored?”

“No.”

Even shook his head, confused smile on his lips. “Okay.”

“I just feel like we should be doing more,” Isak sighed, rolling off of him onto the pillow next to him. Even turned the music down and set his phone on the bedside table.

“Why?” Even asked. “This is what we always do.” He turned onto his side and tucked some of Isak's hair behind his ear, and Isak would miss his touch. He was so afraid of doing this without him, being without him, not having Even to treat him like he was precious without treating him like he was damaged, too.

“But we don't have any time left,” Isak said.

“Babe,” Even said, smiling at him. “You're too stressed out about this, okay? You just need to calm down, because I'll be fine, and it's not like we'll never see each other again. There'll only be a few weeks while you're out there and I'm in here. It's okay. We'll have plenty of time in the future.”

“I know. And you keep saying that and I believe you, it's not that I don't believe you, but the future is the future and I don't _know_ what's gonna happen and I don't _like_ that. I want to know, I want control of the situation.”

“I know what's gonna happen,” Even said, placing a heavy hand on his cheek. Isak closed his eyes and hummed and Even stroked his thumb across his jaw. “We're gonna take it a minute at a time, because we don't know what the future holds. And we don't have to. But you can know that this minute, I'm perfectly happy to lie here with you and do nothing at all. Because we don't have to take it all so seriously.”

Isak tucked his face into Even's shoulder and smiled, feeling Even's arm curl around his waist. “How'd you get this smart?”

“I think you're giving me a little too much credit,” Even said, rubbing his back.

“I don't. Because you always make me feel better and I feel like I don't give you anything back.”

“Don't say that,” Even said, stroking his hair with Isak's face still hidden from view. “It's not true, and I don't want you to think like that.” He pulled back so he could look at Isak, and Isak didn't like the concerned little frown on his face and creasing his brow. “What's going on, baby?”

“Nothing.”

“I think you're lying.”

“Only a little bit.”

“That's a little bit more than you should be.”

Isak smiled, then it fell. “It sounds stupid. And it sounds like I don't trust you. And I _do_ trust you.”

“I know you do,” Even said, cupping his chin and kissing his lips. “It's okay.”

“I'm afraid of you finding someone else,” Isak said quietly. “Someone who's not so fucked up.”

Even hugged him and let out an amused chuckle that Isak would be offended by if it wasn't Even. “That won't happen. I promise. And you're not fucked up, don't say that about yourself.”

“I take a lot of work.”

“So do I. Are you gonna leave me for someone easier?”

“Not unless you leave me first.”

Even kissed him and Isak loved it.

“You don't have to worry about it,” Even said. “I'm not going to find someone else. No one compares to you.”

“Maybe I'll find someone less sappy.”

Even gasped. “You would never. And you haven't seen anything yet. Cause when you come back to visit me, I'll be so happy to see you after our time apart that I can't be held responsible for the things I say to you.”

“I'm looking forward to it,” Isak said, and moved closer so that he could kiss him again. “And I'll allow it just because it'll mean that you missed me.”

“Of course I'll miss you. But it'll be easier knowing that we'll get together in the end.”

“You'll still be my boyfriend, right?” Isak asked.

“Unless you want to break up with me.”

“I don't want to break up with you,” Isak said. “Not until I'm older and successful and can find someone better.”

“That's okay,” Even said with a smile. “As long as I get you for a little while.”

  
*

Thursday was his last group therapy, but he didn't speak at all because he had nothing to say. He hadn't been close to these people—they were much older than him and he hadn't been overwhelmingly social with them—but he still had _feelings_ about leaving them. He wanted to know what would happen to them, if they would get better, if they would see their mothers and fathers and children again. He knew a lot of them wouldn't, not any time soon. He wished they would, though, the people who weren't so lucky. He hoped they'd get out soon.

So he listened, nodded, smiled at people. Even sat next to him but they weren't touching, because even though he was pretty sure everyone knew, they were being decent enough to at least try to follow the ward's rules in public places. They just shared looks and smiled, and when it was Even's turn to share—much more willingly now than when he'd first entered, and Isak was proud of him—Isak listened, even though they'd talked through a lot of it between the two of them.

“I finally got through to my parents,” Even said to the group. “They're allowing me to move out of their house when I get out, and I've already found some roommates.”

“That's wonderful,” Adrian said with a smile.

“Yeah, I'm gonna stay for a couple more weeks. Because I just got off suicide watch, so I want a little more time to adjust to... not having people watch my every single move, before I'm more completely on my own. But, I mean, I'm feeling good. A lot better than I thought I'd ever feel again.”

Isak wanted to reach out to him, but he didn't. Just smiled. Because he knew that feeling, that feeling of hopelessness, thinking that everything would be forever changed because of something beyond his control. The feeling that his life could never be better than that lowest moment. And he was overcoming, like Even was, like everyone here was. He was fighting battles to win the war, and he had the upper hand.

“Everything is working out,” Even said. “And I think it'll all be fine.”

And Isak truly believed that it would, that it'd be fine and good and great, for Even and for himself and for both of them, for the people in the circle with them actively trying to get better.

“We have one more thing to do before the session is over,” Adrian said, and then looked at Isak with a smile. “Isak is going home tomorrow, so let's all congratulate him on finishing his treatment and getting discharged.”

There were some claps and cheers and Isak smiled, ducking his head down against the attention, feeling Even's hand on his shoulder, squeezing.

“And we're very proud of him,” Adrian said, standing up. “Me and the rest of the staff, all the nurses and aids and his therapist, especially. He's had a pretty profound impact; he came in here much younger than the rest of our patients, after something very hard happened to him, and we're so happy that he's grown and healed so much.”

Two aids and a nurse came in—Camila, smiling at him—and set down some cupcakes on the table and Isak smiled at the gesture.

“So this is our little celebration, because it's your turn, Isak, and we're really proud of you.”

Adrian shook his hand and Isak felt a smile trying to break his face in half. There was a point in his life when he never thought he'd be able to smile again. And now he had people who were happy for him and proud of him and rooting for him. He had people who cared even when he thought he could never look at himself again.

He ate a cupcake and kissed frosting off of Even's lips, even among most of the patients and most of the staff. He hooked his arms around Even's neck and backed him up against the wall and smiled into his kiss.

“I love you,” he said.

“I'm proud of you,” Even answered, smiling and kissing him again, and Isak smiled back, because he was pretty proud of himself, too.

  
*

He was feeling especially dramatic as he prepared to leave on Friday morning. He laid in bed pressed against Even for most of the morning, kissing him a lot and then sighing loudly. He packed his backpack with half of his own clothes and half of Even's, and when Even caught him he just pouted until Even kissed him and told him it was okay with an amused smile. They ate breakfast together, they made out a bit, and then Ana came in to tell him that it was time to go, and he just didn't _want_ to.

In theory, getting discharged was exciting. In practice it wasn't so much. Because that meant letting go of Even's hand and he didn't want to do that.

Even walked him to the door where his father was waiting, and Doctor Kinsey was there, and the nurses were there.

“Hi, Pappa,” Isak said, giving him a strong hug. His father hugged back just as hard.

“I've missed you,” he said.

“Me too.”

“And I'm so proud of you.”

Isak looked up at him and smiled, then took Even's hand to pull him forward. “Pappa, this is Even.”

“Hi, Even,” his father said, holding out his hand.

“My boyfriend,” Isak added, more quietly, a bit shyly. Being okay with homosexuality was sometimes different when it was your own kid, when your toleration was put to the test.

But his dad just smiled wider and squeezed Even's hand and said, “I'm Terje. You're welcome over any time.”

“Thank you,” Even said, smiling nervously. Sometimes Isak forgot that he'd never done this before, either.

“Bye, Ana,” Isak said, hugging the nurse, and moving to the other. “Camila.”

“You've made my life very hard,” Camila said, arms wrapped around him. “But I'm very proud of you, and very glad I met you.”

“I filled your life with happiness and excitement,” Isak said, pulling away. “And you'll miss me.”

“I'll miss you,” she agreed, smiling.

“I guess I'll miss you, too,” he said.

Saying goodbye to Ellen was harder.

“If you ever need anything,” she said, hugging him tight, “anything in the world you call me. Promise you will.”

“I will.”

“Promise!”

“I will! Jesus!” He pulled back and she reached up to cup his cheeks.

“You're so strong,” she said. “And you're strong-willed, and you're stubborn, and very sweet.”

“And I'm your favorite patient,” Isak said.

“And you're my favorite patient,” Ellen answered, and Isak smiled.

“I didn't think you'd ever say it.”

“I'm allowed to now that you're leaving.” She gave him one more hug, a tight one, one that Isak clung to.

He appreciated her so much, he owed her so much because she'd helped him more than he ever thought would be possible. He entered the hospital a week after one of the worst nights of his entire life, two months after the other one. He'd been abused and his mother had been killed and he felt completely alone in the world. He felt worthless and he felt used. And he thought that he always would, he thought he'd always walk around with a certain darkness inside him, an irreparable sadness.

But she had told him that he wouldn't. She had told him that he wasn't defined by the terrible things that had happened to him, that he was more than what the man had saw him as and more than what he thought he was. He was able to be touched again, he was able to be kissed again. He had accepted himself and he had been accepted by others, he felt good and he felt healthy.

He would never have taken any first step towards loving himself without Doctor Kinsey telling him to. He'd still be scared and he'd still feel broken.

“Bye, kiddo,” she said, tousling his hair.

“I'll take your bag down to the car, love,” his father said, kissing the top of his head. “Meet me when you're ready.”

“Okay,” Isak said, watching his dad shoulder his backpack to leave. The nurses hugged him one last time, Ellen hugged him one last time, and then he was left alone with Even, looking up at him as Even watched him with the utmost devotion.

“So I'm leaving,” Isak said.

“Only for a little while,” Even said, taking his face in his hands. “I'll be out there with you in no time.”

Isak grasped his wrists and forced a smile. “I know.”

“Don't be sad.”

“I can't help it. And I'm offended that you're not sad.”

Even laughed. “Of course I'm sad. I just don't want you to be. And I'm so much happier than I am sad. So happy for you to be healed like this.”

“I'm not healed. Not yet.”

“There's no rush.”

“What if I never am?”

Even kissed his forehead. “It'll be okay. Because you don't have to do it alone. I'll be there, and your dad, and your friends. You're loved, Isak. Remember that, okay?”

“You're acting like we'll never talk again.”

“I'll call you tonight. I promise. You have to tell me everything.”

Isak smiled up at him, moving his arms around Even's neck and hugging him tight. “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” Even said, holding him close, so close.

“I'll miss you.”

“I'll miss you, too.”

“Say something original,” Isak said against his neck.

“You make me happy. And I'm glad we're together. I never thought I'd be so lucky.”

“Neither did I.”

Even pulled apart, brushed their noses together, and smiled at him. “You better get going.”

“I know.”

“I love you.”

Isak kissed him. “Me, too.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> talk to me here in the comments section or on [tumblr](https://supermansplaining.tumblr.com/) because i really love hearing from you <3


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